When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You
by blue peanut m and m
Summary: What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what it started. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.
1. Chapter 1

**Whe the past comes back to haunt you.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . If they were mine they'd still be together!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . So here it is the long ago spoke of sequel to The Nutcracker, if you haven't read that one, you might want to. Thanks for taking time out to read, will be back soon with a new chapter, Peanut x**

Wayne stumbled into the bench made rickety through age, as the shotgun blast knocked him off his feet, and the pellets ripped their way through his shoulder, his good arm reaching out for support and knocking off the box that lay resting upon it, sending it clattering to the ground in a plume of dust, the noise very nearly drowning out his own cry of agony as shock gave way to pain. He jumped as his partner dropped to his knees beside him, cried out again as pressure was placed upon the wound that was now bleeding profusely. As the pain eased slightly he wanted to keep his friend there with him, but he knew now that they didn't have the time, the guard in his little box must have heard the shot which meant the police would soon be on their way.

"Leave me here." He managed to grind out around his clenched teeth. "Go get the thing." He followed soon after, emphasizing the need for haste with a push.

Wayne watched as Grossman moved over to the locked cage that ran floor to ceiling on one side of the storage unit, watched as he fumbled with the padlock in his need to get inside quickly, only managing to do so after many failed attempts and some deep breathing. He breathed his own heavy sigh as he heard the door finally swing open and he watched his friend step inside, turning his eyes away as he trusted him to find the object they were here to acquire, and focusing his attention on his shredded shoulder and the pain that now throbbed in beat with his heart, soon he told himself, soon they would be out of here, soon they would be back at their ramshackle apartment where he could receive the attention he needed, soon they would hand over the object and be rich and the pain would ease as he sat sipping mojitos on some sunny beach some where. So consumed did he become with thoughts of money, he almost missed the whispered words of "let me out" to begin with.

As they were spoken again he turned in the gloom, his eyes wide and scouring every inch of the unit he could see, noticing for the first time just how creepy the place actually was. Shivers traced their way down his spine, quickly followed by goose bumps, and sweat beads began to break out all over his skin, fear crawling deeper within him as the words were whispered again. "Let me out?" He inched away as he realized the words were coming from the box he had disturbed, a part of him wanting nothing to do with what was inside, but a bigger part of him was greedy, a bigger part of him was curious. This was supposed to have been an easy job, she never mentioned anything about trip wires and shotguns and he wanted more than the meager payout she was offering, maybe if he took this also she would pay more, or at least know of someone who would want to buy it, what ever it was. He inched back closer as the words were whispered out once more, his hand hovering over the lid itching to open it. He swore as his friend shouted out in triumph, having forgotten where he was for a moment as a lust to find out what was inside the box consumed him, his hand dropped back to his side as Grossman rushed back into the main part of the unit triumphantly waving a small wooden box in his hands.

"I got it!" His friend exclaimed, hurrying back over and dropping to his knees in front of him, he turned his eyes away from the whispering words and watch as Grossman placed the box on the dirty floor beside him before offering his hands out for support. "C'mon lets get you out of here and fixed up." His friend added as he pulled him to his feet, vertigo assaulting him and threatening to drop him back down to the floor. Wayne breathed deeply to try and ease his violently swirling stomach, as it began to calm he started to move wanting to get as far as hell away from this place as possible, but the voice refused to be left unheard, it's eerily low words seeming especially loud in the otherwise quiet of the unit. Turning to Grossman he halted their progress out of there and pointed to the box.

"Grab that one as well."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. I'm shot, I'm pissed and I want that damn box as payment for my troubles."

Knowing Wayne's penchant for a quick temper, Grossman bowed down and quickly agreed, grabbing the requested item and fumbling with it's bulk before carrying both it, the original box and Wayne's weight out into the night.

Elsewhere, that same night saw a sleek black beauty stream it's way down road after road, it's headlights cutting through blackness that surrounded it, it's occupants arguing slightly between themselves, arguing about demon bitches, and deals, and trust. The arguing stopped as phone began to ring, both men pointing out it wasn't theirs before the driver motioned to the glove compartment and the phone he kept charged there, the phone that had once belonged to their Father. Sam rummaged around the assorted contents before finally placing his hand on the phone, opening it up he answered, listening carefully to the words being spoken, answering in the right places, signaling for a pen and writing down an address after he requested it. After ending the call he turned to his brother.

"Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place outside of Buffalo?"

"What?" Dean inquired before adding in a more incredulous voice. "No way!"

"Yeah, and someone just broke into it. I told the guy who owns it to keep it quiet, said we'd check it out, figured we're about three hours away, what do you think?"

"I say we step on it." Dean replied, it wasn't like his Dad to keep secrets from him, well yeah he had kept the mother load of all secrets for a death bed confession, but this was different, he could think of no reason to have kept this storage unit quiet and curiosity was burning within him as to why he had. Pushing down harder on the gas, he felt his baby respond and smiled at how it made him feel, not realizing that soon it would be a while before he smiled again; or that some secrets should always remain just that, secret. A fact he was about to learn at a big cost to his brother.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . So that was the teaser trailer, what did you think? Catch you all again soon, Peanut x**


	2. Chapter 2

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . If they were mine they'd still be together!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Okay so I agreed to do some wacky shifts at work this week that means I have to completely screw up my sleep patterns, bad for me, good for you as I found myself awake at 3.30 this morning with an urge to write. So here's chapter 2 for you to peruse. Thank you so much for the amazing response to chapter 1, I can only hope that you will enjoy chapter 2 as much. Catch you later, Peanut x**

Sam groaned as he staggered his way into the motel room and eased his bruised and battered body down onto the bed, his knees creaking in protest. In just a few days, thanks to a pesky rabbits foot, he had been slammed to the floor, punched and strangled; fallen numerous times skinning and bruising his knees; lost a shoe; had his arm on fire, and knocked himself out; been slapped and punched and knocked out again; and as if that wasn't bad enough, been shot. He yearned for a long hot shower to ease the aches and pains away, but he just felt so damn tired the actual thought of getting up hurt him, his body rebelling against the idea also as his eyes began to close and he slowly began to slide into the comfort of the lumpy, worn mattress his good hand still clasped tightly against his wounded shoulder. He didn't hear Dean enter the room, their many bags thrown over his shoulders, didn't hear him shout his name as the pull of sleep took a firm grip, but he felt the light slap to his cheek and the ones that followed closely after,

"Leave me 'lone, Dean." Sam finally managed to mumble out, his good hand leaving his shoulder to bat weakly at Dean's hand.

"No can do, Sammy. We gotta get ya wound cleaned and dressed, after all that's happened I don't want ya to get an infection from this. C'mon, the quicker we do this the quicker ya can get to sleep afterwards."

Reluctantly Sam inched his way back into a sitting position. Dean was right, to sleep with an un-cleaned wound would be suicide for him, the rabbits foot may have been destroyed, but did he really want to take a risk? Plus he really needed to ask his brother something. Something that had been bugging him since they had first stepped foot inside their Dad's lock up. Something, a feeling maybe, that he had pushed aside as one mishap after another assaulted him. A feeling that something evil had once been stored within the unit, something that had still left a faint trace of itself behind, a trace that had managed to chill Sam to the bone. A feeling that he had felt again both times he had visited the two thieves apartment, at the time he had put it down to the foot, but now he wasn't so sure. He opened his mouth ready to ask the question that had been bothering him, getting as far as to say "Dean?" before he gasped out in agony the rest of the words cut off, as Dean attempted to remove his jacket and inadvertently jostled his wound, the question forgotten as he battled to calm his erratic breathing and stay conscious.

"I'm sorry Sam."

"I know. . . . . . . . .just. . . . . . .just cut the damn coat off will ya?" Sam managed to grind out between gritted teeth. He knew there was worst to come and he wanted to stay strong, but he just hurt so damn much, and he really liked that coat. He steadied himself as Dean tore at his t-shirt, preparing himself for what was about to happen, sending a silent look Dean's way as he hesitated, a look that said "I know you're sorry" whilst at the same time said "please just do it." He turned his head away as the alcohol burned into his shoulder, hiding a cry of agony into the crook of his arm, but it was the stretch and burn of the forceps entering his flesh that was his undoing and had him fading into the blackness; a blackness that Dean allowed him to find comfort in as he continued to prod around, looking for that allusive shard of metal.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as Sam succumbed, as much as he wanted to keep Sam awake and conscious long enough to fill him full of pain killers, it killed him to sit and watch his brother in pain and know he was the one causing it, he breathed another sigh as the clamps finally scraped against metal. Within minutes the bullet was out, the wound had been washed clean again, and the arduous task of stitching had been completed. Now all he had to do was re-awaken Sam, load him up on happy drugs, and wait. He grabbed all the items he had been using, and the blood stained towels and dumped them all in the sink of the motel rooms small bathroom before rinsing his hands and filling one of the plastic cups motels always seemed to have with water. He rummaged around in one of the duffels for some pain relief before making his way back over to Sam, placing the items on the night stand before tapping at his brother's cheek once again.

"Sammy, c'mon that's it wake up, show me those peepers." He encouraged, smiling as Sam's eyes eventually rose to half mast, his brother blinking numerous times before he managed to open them fully. "Hey Buddy." Dean added. "Stay awake long enough to down these pills and drink some water."

"No' wan' any." Sam slurred in exhaustion.

"C'mon Sammy, ya have to." Dean realizing he was fighting a losing battle remembered Sam questioning tone from earlier and in an attempt to keep his brother awake asked. "Sam, c'mon stay awake, tell me what you wanted to ask before?" He immediately regretted the question as Sam's face paled.

Grossman sat slumped in his chair, a bottle of near empty whiskey nestled in his lap, and other empty ones littered around his feet, still dressed in the clothes he had worn since the night of the robbery. He raised the bottle with shaking hands, sending out yet another toast to his fallen friend whose photo he still grasped in his hand before aiming the neck in what he hoped was the general direction of his mouth. He gulped down the amber liquid, not caring that some of it escaped and began to dribble down his chin, dropping off the edge to add more stains to his shirt. Allowing the bottle to fall back into his lap he rubbed a hand across his bristled chin. A beam of sunlight bouncing off something on the litter strewn floor forced him to shut his eyes to get away from it's piercing dazzle, the lids unwilling to open again once he had done so, his mind shutting down, and his brain on the cusp of sending him into a alcohol induced slumber. A scratch though, and a muffled cry broke through his conscious. He grumbled, turning over as best he could in the chair to get away from the noise, but the noise was persistent and annoying, and Grossman found himself waking and wondering where it was coming from.

Standing unsteadily he began to search the mess created from the fight looking for answers and finding them as he looked behind the couch and found the box that Wayne had insisted they take. He stood fixated for a moment, thinking back to the horrors that had happened after his last bout of curiosity, wondering if it would be best to just chuck the damn thing away, but blinded by grief and drunkenness, he began to move closer to the voice that kept calling to him to "let me out" his hand reaching behind him for the pry bar he had seen earlier as he searched. As he reached for the lock, all previous doubts vanished as the voice seemed to get stronger, and the need to get inside grew. With no doubt in his mind that he was doing the right thing, he placed the bar within the lock and pushed as hard as he could, the lock breaking easily beneath his pressure. He reached for the lid, and with a shaky hand opened the lid, a loud sucking hiss reverberating around the room.

So long. So long it had waited in this dark and depressing box. So long had it waited for someone he could reach out to, someone he could control. So long had he waited to taste the essence of the one that had gotten away. So long. He thought he had been successful, only to find himself still locked away within his tomb. He thought he had at one point tasted his prize within close proximity, but the taste had gone and he started to think that after all these years he had finally gone mad. The prize though had returned, so much closer this time, and he was sure at one point his prize had sensed him too, but it had faded again and he knew he didn't have much time, that he would have to use what little strength and power he had left to acquire that what was rightfully his. He'd concentrated so hard, so long with nothing gained that he thought he had failed once more, but his puppet had finally reacted and he had swooped in for the kill, twisting and manipulating until it bowed down to his needs and he tasted his first breath of freedom in years. As he looked upon the vessel that had released him with scorn, he started to formulate his plan to find The One. The One called Sam Winchester.

To be continued. . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . Will try and work another chapter out as soon as possible. Thank you all for taking time to read, Peanut x**


	3. Chapter 3

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . If they were mine they'd still be together! Okay, well I can't use this disclaimer anymore. All things recognizable belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Okay, so the crazy shifts have finished, but they've left me seriously messed up when it comes to sleeping, so please forgive me if this chapter comes across as just a bunch of random drabble, and for the lateness, Peanut x**

"Sam?" Dean inquired as he watched all the color drain from his siblings features. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?" He added when no response was forthcoming.

Sam forced his swirling thoughts and emotions to calm down as he witnessed the worry creep onto Dean's face. He wanted to answer his brother, but he really didn't know how to. What could he say? He couldn't tell his brother what was bothering him because he really didn't know what was. He couldn't say he was fine though, that nothing was wrong, because not only would that piss Dean off, it was untrue. Something was wrong, an unnerving feeling was festering in the pit of his stomach; a feeling that felt familiar to him, but for the life of him he couldn't quite place a finger on when and where he had felt it before. He took a deep breath before answering as honestly as possible. "I'm okay Dean." He halted the smart ass retort from his sibling by adding. "I just have a weird feeling."

"About what?"

"That's just it, I don't know. I had it at the lock-up, then felt it stronger at those guys apartment."

"Maybe it was just the foot? Or maybe you were sensing those bozo's Gordon sent?"

"Yeah. . . . . . . . . . . Maybe. . . . . . . . . . . I just think it was something more, something evil, something I've felt before, but I can't place it ya know?"

"D'ya think it was demon related?"

"No. . . . . . . . . I don't know. . . . . . . . . God Dean maybe you're right, maybe it was the foot, or maybe I'm just imagining the whole thing?" He rolled over onto his side so that he was facing into the room, groaning a little as the movement pulled on the neat row of stitches Dean had just finished.

"You okay?" Dean asked again as he heard the groan and noticed the pained look to his brothers face. "You sure you don't want any pills?"

"Nah, I'm good. I think I'm just gonna sleep for a while if that's okay?" Sam replied, his eyes drooping as he spoke, the past few days finally catching up with him.

Dean watched as his brother slowly succumbed to exhaustion, watched as he wriggled further down the bed and turned over again in his sleep, his sleep shirt riding up revealing the puckered skin on his stomach that had never quite healed right, burn scars that were repeated to a lesser extent on his legs and arms, they were nothing though compared to the carvings inflicted upon his chest from his encounter years before with a four foot supernatural puppet. Dean shuddered as he remembered The Nutcracker and the agony it had put his brother through, Sam suffering for months after the encounter. Surgeries to graft new skin to his damaged; nights of suffering through crippling nightmares, terrors he couldn't remember when he woke; days of feeling insecure and vulnerable, clinging to Dean or his Dad, or withdrawing into himself, yet not knowing the reason why; his mind closing what had happened to him deep inside itself, Sam never fully recalling just what he had been put through.

He tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as he pushed himself from Sam's bed and crossed the short distance to his own, collapsing onto it and settling down, his hand reaching for the remote control and idly flicking through the channels, his mind though unwilling to allow him to fully relax. Why had the Nutcracker suddenly re-entered his thoughts? He'd seen Sam's scars numerous times over the years, but never had the puppet crossed his mind, why had it today? He briefly wondered if it had anything to do with Sam's strange feelings, but the thought flittered away as his own tiredness let itself be known and he succumbed to the sleep his body requested.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS

He chuckled evilly to himself as the man screamed and writhed beneath his ministrations. Decades of being stored in what can only be called as his coffin, had not passed by without it's rewards. Many times, as he lay within his wooden confines, had he heard the whispers and cries of other items who were also captured and stored there, his still alert mind soaking up everything, storing and remembering it incase he should ever have chance to escape and reek havoc on those who had halted the ritual and taken away from him that what was rightfully his. He was using that stored information now, a tidbit he had overheard a shaman stick whisper, a way to allow yourself to control others into doing your bidding, he knew it wouldn't last long, knew he wouldn't have the strength to repeat it again, but it should last long enough to help him recapture his true goal. He halted his chanting as it seemed the man, Grossman, was about to pass out, he needed him awake and alive, needed his human form to perform tasks he could not yet do, needed him to be his own puppet until he could reclaim his true prize and return to the human form that was stripped from him all those years ago, and stripped again when he was so close to returning by John Winchester.

He laughed as the man stopped screaming and fell quiet upon the dirt strewn floor of the warehouse he had made him acquire, Grossman's mind now plagued with images, and broken by words that would allow the Nutcracker such easy access to manipulate. He walked away from the prone man, knowing he would never leave him, and stood quietly in one of the dark shadowed corners, his wooden body shutting down, soaking up the fear that rolled from the man and using it to replenish his deteriorating strength. He would need every ounce, for tomorrow he would start again on his quest to become human again; tomorrow he would begin his search for his prize; tomorrow Sam Winchester would once more be in his sights.

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . That's all for now folks! As always thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed, catch you soon, Peanut x**


	4. Chapter 4

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . If they were mine they'd still be together! Okay, well I can't use this disclaimer anymore. All things recognizable belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Sorry about the wait for an update, real life is kinda interfering with writing at the moment. As always thanks for reading, will catch you soon, Peanut x**

Dean wasn't sure what woke him up, wasn't sure if it was the ray of sunlight uncomfortably crossing his eyelids, passing through worn curtains that wouldn't fully close; or the harsh rumbling of his cell phone vibrating across the nightstand like some high school marching band; or Sam's sudden cry of "No!" before his brother stumbled from the bed, his feet catching in the rumpled sheets, nearly sending him crashing to the floor before he gained his balance and rushed for the small bathroom; or maybe all of them combined, which ever it was he found himself turning his head, looking at the alarm clock and cursing all them as his sleep blurred vision finally managed to make out the time. "6am! Are you freakin' kidding me?" He rolled his tired frame onto his side, his mind torn between answering the phone or making his way to Sam who he could hear throwing up in the bathroom, in the end deciding to do both. Picking up the phone he answered as he wearily made his way to Sam, the person on the other end speaking before he even had a chance to say hello.

"I got a job fer ya boys." Bobby's gruff voice rang out.

"It's good to hear from you too Bobby." Dean answered before adding. "And thanks for the wake up call. You do realize it's 6am?"

"Well if ya pair of idjits would have given me a call after the whole Bella incident, I would've known that, but no you pair decide to let me sweat it out thinking ya might 'ave failed." Bobby shouted, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and worry.

"Sorry Bobby. Something came up, and I guess we kinda forgot." Dean replied suitably chastised, his hand reaching out to open the bathroom door at the same time.

"Forgot! Forgot! Ya tell me Sam has been cursed by a rabbit's foot and then. . . . . . . . . . ." Bobby paused as Sam chose that moment to be sick once more. "Dean? What's wrong? Was that Sam being sick?"

"Yeah, sorry Bobby. He just woke up as you rang and bolted for the bathroom. I don't know what's wrong yet. Any chance you can send us the details for the hunt, I'll take a look over them, check out Sam and rind ya back."

"Yeah sure Dean. Take care of Sam, and boy, make sure ya call me back."

Dean threw the phone onto Sam's rumpled and sweat dampened sheets before making his way further into the tiny room and sitting on the rim of the bath tub. He placed a hand onto his brother's trembling back, concern and worry etching his features as he felt heat radiating from his sibling. "You okay Sammy?"

Sam could barely muster the strength to answer, his raw throat managing to force out a muted "fine" before he was assaulted by dry heaves. As they abated he managed to twist his head to the side and give his worried brother a quick grin.

"Yeah sure your fine Sam. You're throwing up, you're burning up, and you bolted from the bed so fast you nearly fell. What happened Sam? Did you have a nightmare? A vision?" Dean prayed it wasn't the last one, Sam hadn't suffered from one since Azazeal had died at his own hands, but he worried constantly that they would return, and all the freaky crap that was associated with them. He moved from his brother's side as Sam slid away from the toilet and leant heavily against the wall. Removing a plastic cup from it's protective film, he quickly filled it with water and handed it to his sibling. "What's going on Sam?"

Sam took tentative sips of the cool liquid, almost sighing in pleasure as it eased the burning in his throat, he thought back to the nightmare he had just had, thought of how to explain it to his brother when he didn't understand it himself. The dream was so vivid, so lifelike, but Sam had no recollection of it ever happening, and the evil that had visited him whilst he slept, surely that couldn't have been real, could it? He turned wet eyes his brother's way, swallowing down a few more sips of water before replying. "It was just a dream, Dean. A freaky ass, nightmare of a dream, but still a dream."

"Sam that was more than a dream, you bolted in here like you were aiming for a world record. What the hell did you dream about?"

Sam sighed, he really didn't want to say. He knew after all these years of receiving his brother's teasing about his fear of clowns, that the mocking would only increase if he told Dean of what had scared him so. He could also tell though that Dean would not stop pestering him until he told. Taking a deep breath he started to reply, his heart dropping to his stomach as he watched the color drain from his siblings face. "Don't you dare laugh Dean. I dreamt of a. . . . . . . . . . . I dreamt of a Nutcracker.

The Nutcracker smirked as he leaned back into the plush seats of the car Grossman had stolen, after years confined in his box he was relishing the freedom and all the comforts that came with it. He looked at the man that had now become his puppet, the man that had aged years in the few days he had been out, the man that would feed him until his true prize was once more back in his hands, the man that was chauffeuring him around in the celebrity status he richly deserved. He could smell the fear that bled from the man, could taste the defeat and acceptance of death that filled the car with a rich aroma, Grossman knew he was going to die, knew it would just be a matter of time. The Nutcracker leaned forward and ran his wooden fingers down the side of the mans sweat soaked neck, gaining strength from the shiver that the action caused before sitting back and bringing the fingers to his mouth, sucking on the juices as though they were fine wine, feeling warmth spread throughout his frame. He paused as a different smell began to permeate the air, faint yet instantly recognizable, the aroma of The One. He shouted as the smell began to fade as they drove on, shouted at the man to turn before he lost it's tantalizing bouquet, lust and hunger shining once more in his oak colored eyes. Soon, my child, soon.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . I hope that you all enjoyed, will be back soon with more, Peanut x**


	5. Chapter 5

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . If they were mine they'd still be together! Okay, well I can't use this disclaimer anymore. All things recognizable belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Sorry for the delay, my muse has decided to travel south with the geese looking for the better weather. That being said I hope that you enjoy chapter 5. Catch you soon, Peanut x**

Dean slumped against the bathtub as soon as the words had left Sam's mouth, visions of the past coming back to haunt him, assaulting his mind with images of chilling creatures and visions of a terrified, clinging, and viciously hurt Sam; but that thing couldn't be back, could it? Their Dad had assured him it was destroyed, and Sam didn't even remember the damn thing, or the terror it had created. Maybe Sam dreaming of one, and his own thoughts suddenly drifting back to that time were just a coincident? Who was he really kidding though? When had anything in their life ever been just a coincident? He tried to straighten his features as he saw Sam begin to panic at his reaction, sticking his game face back on, even though inside he was mixed up bottle of emotions.

"Dean? You okay man?" Sam rasped attentively out, his nightmare pushed back but not quite forgotten as he watched his brother try to school his reaction.

"Yeah Sammy, just reeling from the smell that's all. D'ya think you've finished for now?" Dean replied turning the focus back onto his brother.

Sam though was unconvinced, and the usage of his childhood name did little to quell that feeling. Something was wrong. Something was going on that Dean was unwilling to talk about, and Sam knew he would have little chance of finding out what now that Dean's defenses were now firmly in place. He would have to bide his time, wait for the right moment before he struck. He turned his thoughts away from his sibling and internally gauged his stomach, trying to judge if he was willing to leave his position in front of the porcelain god. His stomach lurched as his mind wandered back to his dreams, and the disturbing images and unnerving voice that whispered to him, but he managed to resist the urge to heave once more and with effort forced the thoughts to the back of his mind as he pushed his tired and aching body to his feet. "I'm good, cold but good."

He flushed the toilet, sitting on the closed lid as Dean offered him a glass of water to swill with. "Wait here." His brother spoke before leaving, coming back a few seconds later with a clean dry tee, sweats and a hoodie for Sam to change into. "Get changed whilst I take the wet sheets off the bed." Dean added, his mother hen mode kicking into full swing causing Sam to be concerned even more. Sam stood and stripped out of his sweaty dampened clothes, quickly changing into the clean tee and sweats his brother had provided. He wanted to question it, to find out what was so wrong it was frightening his brother so, but the lingering effects of the previous days, coupled with the nightmare and sickness were beginning to take their toll, and Sam found he could barely manage to keep his eyes open, the lids closing and his head drooping to his chest, one arm still stuck inside the hoodie, Dean finding him that way ten minutes later.

Once he had found the trail, following the smell had been easy, the aroma sweet and luscious and intoxicating against the back drop of grime and filth and pollution, and the smell of the common folk that riddled the air otherwise. As he drew nearer he found himself salivating at the thought of just touching his prize once, becoming aroused at the realization he was so close to achieving his goal once more after all these years, and this time he would not fail. He trembled with anticipation as he ordered Grossman to pull into the lot of the Days Inn, his oaky eyes recognizing the classic car that was positioned outside one of the rooms, having spent hours traveling in it, bound and chained within a wooden box. The smell of his prey was overwhelmingly strong, the prize was so close, but he knew from the past he could not just rush in. He knew he would have to meticulously plan his heist, for there was another smell lingering, a smell that brought fear upon him, a smell that could destroy all his hopes and dreams; the smell of the protector. He would have to plan his strategy well, the boy's father had thwarted him last time, he would not allow the elder child to do so this time.

He demanded Grossman book a room, thrilled when the one next to his prizes turned out to be available. He allowed himself to be bundled into a blanket for the journey from the car to the room, it wouldn't do for his prize or the protector to see him just yet, trusting in Grossman's fear of him that the thief would do him no harm. Once inside he forced the man to push aside the furniture so that his bed was positioned against the wall that separated his room from his goal, the headboard of his bed perfectly aligned with the one in the next room that held his prize. Controlling Grossman, he forced the man to sit at the rooms small table, demanding through fear that he keep him safe whilst he drifted, his thoughts easily breaking past the thin walls of the room and finding their target, a shiver of lust pulsating through him as the prize began to feel his presence, the shiver turning to intense pleasure as the boy whimpered at the intrusion to his dreams.

Pulling his presence back, he turned his glossed over eyes back to his puppet, disgust at the wailing form finding it's way to his wooden face. He sneered maliciously as he clambered off the bed before speaking, the words laced with malice. "Your time on this plain is drawing to an end, but I still have work for you to do my puppet." Silencing the man's protest, the Nutcracker spoke words that would ensure his captive's stillness and brought his fingers up to the man's throat, the limbs seemingly enlarging in size so that they could encircle Grossman's neck, the hands the limbs belonged to flexing and crushing tissue and bone with ease, the Nutcracker gaining strength as he robbed the man of his life. He stopped crushing as he watched the light leave Grossman's eyes, foreign words leaving his mouth once more, words that would ensure that the dead man would be unable to find rest even in death, ensuring the nutcrackers hold over him, ensuring that he would still bow down to him and do his bidding. "Go out now, seek the helpless and make them fall to your feet. Create enough destruction so that the protector will be alerted. I will rest and await your return. Go now."

Dean sighed in relief as he finally managed to sit back down at the room's small wooden table. He'd returned to the bathroom after a few minutes expecting Sam to be dressed and ready to return to bed, his worry about his brother increasing as he stepped past the door frame and caught sight of Sam slumped to the side, his head resting against his chest, one arm still captured beneath the folds of his hoodie. Walking the few steps to his brother's side, he attempted to awaken his sibling, the worry increasing as all he garnered in return was a mumbled groan of "leave me 'lone." Placing his siblings unencumbered arm across his shoulders, Dean gently started to lift his brother, taking a few seconds to steady them both before dragging Sam back into the main room and depositing him gently on his rearranged bed, releasing his captive arm and tucking him under the covers before he felt he could relax.

He booted up Sam's laptop looking for Bobby's message, needing something to do to take his mind of things. He opened up the message and began to read the research the older hunter had sent him, getting halfway through reading about a disgruntled spirit before Sam's whimpers reached his ears. He looked up at his brother, saddened to see a sheen of sweat glistening across his features lightened by the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. He rose once more and made his way over to where Sam lay fidgeting, caught in what seemed like another nightmare. He sat on his siblings bed and slowly carded his fingers through Sam's sweat soaked hair, the motion silencing his brothers cries and stopping his movements almost instantaneously. Dean sat for a few minutes more, his mind racing as to what could be going on. Once he was sure he stood and made his way back to the laptop, reading the rest of the research even though his mind was made up. Deciding it was still too early to phone Bobby back, he sent the older man a quick e-mail instead, speaking of his disappointment at having to turn down the hunt, but there was something wrong with Sam, something that needed to be sorted out first. He left out the details not wanting to worry the man further, just telling him that Sam was unwell; little knowing that by staying quiet he was keeping out someone with information that could help.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Well I hope it was worth the wait? Will be back soon with more, thanks as always for reading, Peanut x**


	6. Chapter 6

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Well it's raining and I have a cold so going out is a no-no for me today so I thought I would attempt to get you all another chapter out quickly. As always I hope that you enjoy, catch you soon, Peanut x**

It obeyed the commands with a fueling mixture of pleasure and despair. Icy tendrils of wispy mist moving stealthily, slowly from it's hiding place and into the nighttime darkened streets, feeling, searching for it's victim it's anger growing with every passing second, intensifying in it's power and it's lust for the kill until it found what it was looking for, and the despair it had been feeling at been stuck in this plain vanished. It slunk back down into the sewers until his prey passed, it's eagerness to attack almost taking away his element of surprise. Uncoiling itself he struck.

Her sneakers moved swiftly, yet quietly across the rain soaked, deserted pavements; her pastel colored scrubs, still new, starchy and not yet loosened enough, swished loudly in the otherwise still night with every sweep of her legs. Although her head faced forward, her eyes swept the road ahead, and her ears listened for any sign of danger as she strode purposefully towards her home. She'd been warned about taking this shortcut, but after the night she had just had, she just wanted to get home, check her children were sleeping soundly and snuggle deeply into her loving husbands side. As she turned the last corner she breathed a sigh of relief as her house came into sight, she was safe now nothing was stirring, everything was quiet.

But his was a ghostly silence, sweeping unsuspected and deadly towards her, curling around her legs and body before she even realized the sudden coldness that surrounded her, his misty form invading her mouth sealing off her screams as his form stalled her walking and continued upwards until within seconds she was covered, her form encased in a chilly cloud. He started to suck the life from her body, doing so slowly so that he could savor every moment, doubling his own form in size as he did so, until there was nothing left of her but a dried up husk. The Wraith dropped her viciously to the cold hard concrete as ordered, left her in full view to be discovered. He wanted to wait, wondering if one of the children the woman had thought of as she died would be the one to find her body, wanting to see the agony in their eyes, but the lust and need to kill again was stronger, enticing him back into the sewers to stalk out his next victim.

By the time dawn began to break, The Wraith was empowered. Three more victims lay drained and dried, left out in full view for unsuspecting humans to discover. His strength had grown, and along with it his need to consume all the more. He tried to ignore the calling of the one who had created him, wanting to stay and kill, but the hold the mannequin had over him was still too strong and he turned away from the tent in the backyard and the sleeping boys that lay unawares of how close they had been to death. Using the dark and dank system he maneuvered his way back to the motel, his vaporous form easing effortlessly through the gap of the door frame. Once inside he returned to his corporeal self, the one they had called Grossman, the bumbling idiot and unsure thief, no longer recognizable in the dark and menacing figure that paced threateningly about the room, his thoughts drifting back to the other lives he had consumed that night, the wails and cries and pleas thrilling him, his mind eager for the Master to allow him to feast once more.

The Master's mind though was consumed with something else. Now that his creation was back, he could allow his thoughts to drift back to his main prize. The memories he had received from the Wraiths kills had amused him, but it was the essence seeping from the boy in the next room that he needed, and now that the Wraith had created a hunt, a reason for them to stay, it was time to start closing circle on his goal, but first he had to separate it from it's protector and he knew exactly how to do just that. He chuckled manically as his plans played out in his mind, shivered at the thought of running his hands across the one that would bring him back to life, sneered as he thought of the foul ways to pay back those that had cursed him all those years ago. Thinking of that time angered him, took his mind of his goal, something that he knew could not happen. He closed that part of his life off, and pushed instead against the weakening mind of the chosen one, feeling the resistance as he tried to worm his way inside, his prize had grown stronger over the years, but so had he. Pushing harder he broke through the resistance and entered, cherishing the gasp of pain his intrusion caused. He cursed as the prize was awakened by the protector and the fragile link was broken, his wooden hands pounding against the motels thin mattress as he fought to contain his rage and his eagerness to take what was rightfully his, but he knew he had to be patient, knew that he had to wait, knew that if he was then this time no one would stand in his way.

Dean's head popped up from where it had rested against the laptop, square indentations visible upon his cheek, as Sam shifted uneasily upon the bed. He turned in his chair ready to move to his siblings side if any more signs of distress were forthcoming, as he had numerous times during the thirty six hours Sam had slept. He did a double take as the numbers registered in his mind and looked at the glowing numbers of the digital clock on the dresser for confirmation, the glaring red digits blurring together slightly, but confirming his suspicions. Thirty six hours. Sam had slept for thirty six hours. A spark of worry churned unpleasantly in his stomach, what was going on? What was wrong with his brother? Was he just exhausted? He'd had a rough couple of days, but he'd had worse before now and his sleep patterns hadn't changed then, why had it now? He wondered if he had missed something, if he had missed an injury when he was tending to his brother, but he knew deep down that he hadn't so what was wrong? He was brought out of his thoughts as Sam gasped as though in pain, his body by his brother's side before his mind had even registered to go there. He settled on the bed next to Sam and gently began to shake his sibling awake, the knot in his stomach growing as after a few attempts Sam opened his eyes; eyes that were glazed and etched with weariness; eyes that looked exhausted.

"Hey Sammy, you okay?" Dean whispered, brushing stray strands away from his brother's eyes in a sly attempt to check his temperature. Sam's forehead though was cool and clammy. He thought Sam hadn't heard him as no reply was forthcoming, his mouth opening again to repeat the question, the words halted as dawning seemed to spark back into Sam's eyes and his brother's voice finally rang out.

"I'm good, tired but good. How long was I out of it?" Sam replied as he gingerly sat up, the action seeming to drain him, sending him slumping against the velour headboard.

"You slept for a day and a half Sam. You shouldn't be tired." Dean replied, that knot growing yet again.

Sam's eyes widened as he listened to his brother's response, a day and a half and yet he felt like he had only just closed his eyes. "I guess I slept too much?" Was the only excuse he could think of, lame at best, but he was as stumped as his brother. "Give me a minute and I'll be fine."

"Good." Dean answered, even though he was less then convinced. He thought about staying quiet about the deaths that had happened in town over night, but it was looking more and more like their kind of thing, and he knew Sam would blame himself if anyone else were to day tonight and they could have stopped it. Biting down his concerns he added. "Because a hunt seems to have stumbled upon us. Four people drained of life and left as a dried up husk, rind any bells?"

"It sounds like a Wraith." Sam replied, his tiredness forgotten as he slipped into hunter mode. He knew that he couldn't have known but he still felt guilty that he had slept as these people perished. "Which means angry spirit, which means banishing spell."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, I checked with Bobby also and he gave me a spell that he thinks will work. Why don't you go get showered? We'll eat and then go stop this thing."

Sam untangle himself from the sheets that held him captive, a shower sounding like a very good idea. He placed his feet against the worn carpeting and pushed his aching body up, lurching violently to the side as vertigo assaulted him. He threw out his hand for support, his palm planting against the wall that adjoined their room to the one next door, his knees starting to buckle as pain registered on his stomach, legs and arms, and visions of a painted mannequin flashed across his mind. His strength seemed to seep from him and it was all he could do to keep from falling. As he felt his brother's arms surround him, grounding him, pulling him back to the bed, breaking his hold of the wall, he could have sworn he heard a maniacal laughter.

The Nutcracker laughed as he stroked his wooden fingers down the wall one last time, placing the digits in his mouth he sucked the last traces of his prize from them, his strength growing. Turning to his creation he spoke. "Go out now. Kill again. Lure them to you, destroy the protector, but leave that was is mine. Do not hurt The One or I will make you suffer in ways you could never imagine. Go now, do not disappoint me." He sat back on the bed as his puppet dissolve into the mist once more and slink effortlessly under the door. Soon he told himself, soon he will be back with me, soon I will return.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Thank you all for taking time out to read, will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	7. Chapter 7

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Sorry for the wait, between a really bad cold, a birthday, a bad internet connection and another plot bunnie that wouldn't leave me be, this fic got pushed aside a bit. But I'm back on track now, and here it is chapter 7. I hope that you enjoy, Peanut x**

"Sammy!" Dean cried out, turning back as he heard Sam's gasp of pain. He rushed over as he caught sight of his brother seemingly caught in a trance, his hand braced against the wall as though it was the only thing keeping him upright. "Sam? Sammy? What's wrong? " He asked as he reached forward pulling his sibling back down to the bed he had just recently vacated, thankful that as he did so his brother's vacant stare seemed to dissipate, his eyelids blinking furiously before focusing on Dean's face.

"Dean?" Sam asked, confusion evident on his face as to why he was once again sitting on his bed.

"Yeah Sam. You okay?" Dean worriedly inquired. "What the hell just happened?" He added when Sam nodded his head in response.

Unable to explain what had just happened, Sam just shook his head. "I don't know. I just felt dizzy. Maybe I stood up too quick. I'm okay now." When he still felt Dean's arm around his shoulders, Sam turned his head and added. "Dean, really I'm fine, tired but fine. I'm gonna take that shower you mentioned, clear away the cobwebs so to speak." Pushing away from his brother's embrace, Sam gingerly stood, smiling down at his sibling as though to comfort him more, when he managed to do so without swaying. "See I'm good. I'll be out in a bit."

Dean watched Sam make his way slowly towards the small bathroom, the knot that had been clenching in his stomach releasing a little as Sam did seem a little bit more steadier on his feet, but the worry still remained and he wondered if he should ring Bobby for help. He hated the fact that the Nutcracker had been mentioned by Sam, hated the fact that he had also thought back to that time, but it was destroyed, their Dad had said so. Was he just reading too much into this? Concern churning in his stomach told him that he wasn't, that he was right to be worried, but he swallowed it down as anxiety over Sam's mysterious illness. They were in the middle of a hunt, people were dying, he had to focus, they had to stop this Wraith. Once this hunt was over, he promised himself, he would look into the past more seriously.

He was brought out of his thoughts as he heard the shower turn off through the paper thin walls, standing quickly he made his way over to the table where all of the research he had found was scattered, knowing that if he stayed sat upon Sam's bed his younger brother would question his actions. He tried to look nonchalant, tried to not make it seem as though he was checking Sam over, as the youngest Winchester eased his way through a plume of steam and back into the main room, but all thoughts of the hunt vanished and he only just managed to swallow down a gasp of concern as he took in his brother's appearance. Sam looked beat, his normally glowing tan seemed to have faded leaving the bruises he had acquired, from the fallout of the rabbits foot, to stand out vividly against his skin; even the damn Nutcracker burns seemed to be more intense than normal. He opened his mouth to request that either Sam sit this one out, or they both leave the hunt well alone, but the words became stuck as Sam's own voice rang out.

"I know what you're thinking Dean, but I'm fine, and I'm going. So are you gonna tell me what you've found or do I have to take up precious time by reading through it all myself?"

Dean coughed to clear his throat. He took one last look at his brother, seeing the stubbornness radiate from him. Picking up his research he thrust it his brothers way asking. "Tell me what you see?"

Sam glanced at the pages briefly before his eyes settled on the map Dean had dug up of the area, his eyes widening as realization settled in. "Dean, this can't be. This has gotta be wrong. It's too easy man, it has to be a set up?"

"That's what I thought too, but a set up by whom?"

Sam could only shrug his shoulders in response, grimacing as the stitches pulled once more. "I don't know Dean, but this is freakin' eerie man. Four points of death, all evenly spaced apart, it's almost as if they're telling us where the next victim will be found."

"Yeah, but why? I don't like this Sam. I don't like the fact that a hunt just pops up outta nowhere, as we happen to be in town. I don't like that it's practically begging us to come hunt it. And I especially don't like that this freaky illness has taken a hold of you at the same time." He paused before adding words that he knew would piss his brother off. "I think we should just high tail it outta here, head off to Bobby's for a while, just until you're fit again." He wasn't surprised when Sam responded with words that he knew he would, and with guilt written all over his face.

"What? No way Dean. Four people have already died whilst I've been lying around. I wont have another victim on my conscience. I just can't. I have to save this person."

"Sam, we don't even know these people. I'm more concerned about you. Why can't we go? Why do we have to save everyone?"

"Because?"

"Why Sam?"

Sam choked back tears as Dean spoke words that so often haunted his dreams, before mumbling. "Because maybe if I save enough people, I wont turn."

Dean had wondered if that would be the reason, but to hear it from his brother's mouth was still disheartening to listen too. "Sammy."

"No Dean, don't try and tell me I'm wrong. I have to do this. Can we please just go."

Knowing there would be know way he could stop Sam, Dean acquiesced. "Okay, we'll do this, but we do it my way Sam."

Following the route the Nutcracker commanded, the Wraith slithered and slunk his way through the dark and dank systems, feasting upon the carcasses the relentless rainfall swept down through storm drains, the humans above blissfully retreating to their beds for the night unawares of the danger that lurked so far beneath. It trembled as the scents of so many souls assaulted him, so wanting to deviate from the plans the Master had laid out for him, but he knew to do so would result in dire consequences, so he slithered onwards, heading for the coordinates that would lead him to his victim for the night. He paused as he neared, feeling the essence of three, this was perfect a decoy to lure in it's first victim, that would result in the even bigger prey entering the picture. He pushed his misty form up the slime covered walls and through the rusting bars of a grate, the hunt truly beginning and his meal for the night now in sight.

Sam pushed water logged strands of chocolate brown hair out of his eyes; eyes that were so heavy and desperately wanted to close. As his sneaker clad feet sloshed through yet another deep puddle, coating his drenched feet in yet more chilling liquid he wondered, not for the first time, if maybe Dean was right, if maybe they should have forgotten this hunt and taken off, waited until he felt better, cause Dean was right about something else, Sam wasn't a hundred percent, not even close. Chills wracked through his frame, yet he still sweated and fire seemed to rage inside him, chills that no matter how many layers of clothing he had added he could not still. His head felt stuffy, and pounded to a beat he was sure his brother must be able to hear on the other side of the road even over the thunder that crashed overhead, he just wanted to collapse where he was standing, to drop to the floor and sleep for a week. He turned defeated, ready to yell his siblings name and tell him he needed to leave, but a movement in his peripheral vision stopped him in his tracks, surely it couldn't be? Surely no one would be so stupid to allow this to happen? But as he blinked and forced his pained eyes to focus, he knew that someone had. He started racing down the sidewalk, whistling a signal he hoped Dean would hear, racing for the little girl that had somehow managed to escape one of the houses and was now gleefully jumping from puddle to puddle.

Sam's heart thudded against his chest as his eyes caught more movement, wispy mist slinking it's way from the sewers below to form a barricade between himself and the child, blocking him from her. Sam wanted to scream then, wanted to cry out in rage for the young life that was about to be lost, but the cries died before they could be spoken as the Wraith began to move and realization struck. He had been played. He tried to halt his momentum, to back peddle away from the mist, but it was too late. He felt the cold bite into his already chilled skin, felt it seep deep into his bones as the Wraith slithered around his legs and began to crawl it's way up his body. He could feel it begin to feed upon him as it crept around his chest, crushing, making breathing hard. He panicked as it reached his face, the mist pulling back ready to strike and cut off any cries for help, just managing to calm himself enough to utter "Got ya" before it pushed it's way into his mouth. As his last air was used, blackness encroached and his knees buckled, Sam heard his brother shout out words.

Dean had turned the minute he had heard Sam's whistle of warning, he watched as his brother flew down the street, wondering what could have alarmed him so. He started running as he too caught sight of the small girl, running even faster as he witnessed the Wraith begin to appear. As it turned away from the small child and started to head towards Sam, Dean realized their mistake. This was a set up, this had been planned, this was all about him and his brother, and they had fallen right slap bang into the trap. He cut across the road at an angle, hoping to gain back some of the gap Sam's longer legs had created, but as the Wraith encircled his sibling Dean knew he wasn't going to get there in time. As Sam's knees buckled Dean began to chant the banishing ritual, hoping and praying that the binding spell they had cast upon one another earlier would be enough to hold the Wraith in place until he finished; and that he could finish in before it was too late for his brother.

"Nos dico super amicitia, porro utpote morbus, porta custodis, animus curator. Succurro nos eximo is phasmatis. Succurro nos succurro is reperio pacis. Sino is reperio suus via ex is rectus. Sino is silo. Subsisto is vallum ut eram coepi, permissum is urbs pacis iterum."

The light blinded him as the last words were spoken, the screech the creature let out thankfully drowned out as another crash of thunder roared above them. Dean blinked furiously, trying desperately to bring focus back to his eyes, his gaze immediately finding his brother once he could see again, his breath catching in his throat as Sam continued to lie ominously still as the rain pounded even harder around him.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . As always thanks for reading, will be back soon with more, Peanut x**

**Oh and the Latin translates as "We call upon friends, long since past. Gate keepers, soul guardians. Help us free this spirit. Help us help him find peace. Allow it find it's way from this plain. Allow it to rest. Stop this rampage what's been started. Let this city sleep peaceful once more"**


	8. Chapter 8

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Sorry about the wait for an update to this fic, I kinda got sidetracked by my other fic Hope. As always thanks for stopping by to read, catch you later, Peanut x**

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" Dean's legs felt like jelly as he pounded the last hundred yards to where Sam still lay prone on the sidewalk. He yelled his brother's name again and again, hoping, wishing for any kind of response, but gaining in return only the roll of thunder, as it moved on, and the spattering of rain. He slid to a stop, his knees dropping to the hard concrete, a jolt coursing through his body at the impact, pain registering but being ignored. His fingers reached for this brother's neck, the digits searching for the pulse he hoped was still beating there, relief coursing through him as he found a steady beat. He turned his attention as to why Sam wouldn't awaken, his hands ghosting lightly over his brother's body probing for any injury, but finding none. He ran a hand through his rain drenched hair, frustration seeping from every pore, what the hell was wrong?

Seeing lights coming on in various windows, his yells awakening residents as the thunder died, he knew he would have to move, knew he would have to get Sam out of there. With effort he managed to maneuver his brother's large frame to a sitting position against a wall, pulling his limp arm around his shoulders Dean slowly hefted the dead weight up and started dragging Sam back to where they had left the Impala, thankful that they had parked it on Sam's side of the street, regretful that they hadn't parked it closer. Sweat poured off him, and his worry had increased significantly by the time he was maneuvering a still limp and unconscious Sam into the passenger seat of the Impala, he rubbed harshly at his brother's sternum hoping desperately for a sign of any sort, but receiving nothing to ease his agony. He closed the door softly and ran quickly around to the drivers side, the keys fumbling for the ignition as his hands shook so much, he cursed to himself and took deep breaths to calm his nerves, now was not the time to lose it, gradually he calmed, the keys slid home and the loud rumble of the V8 bringing a new thunder to the night.

It felt like hours before they reached the motel, yet Dean knew it could only have been minutes. Sam still rested awkwardly against the passenger door, neither coming to on the drive back, or showing any signs of awakening. Dean pulled the car as close to their room as possible, and began the arduous task of getting Sam inside. He carefully opened the door his brother was leaning against, his hand reaching out to stop Sam's graceful slide to the floor. Pulling his siblings long legs free from the foot well, he placed his arm once again across his shoulders and lifted. He left the Impala unlocked as he rushed to get Sam inside, and fumbled with the rooms key in his eagerness to get inside, but soon enough he finally had Sam situated on the bed furthest from the door. He breathed a sigh of relief and let go most of the tension that had been building within him, everything would be okay now, Sam would wake up soon and would probably be mortified at having to have been helped home, but everything would be okay. How little did he realize he would pay for those thoughts.

The Nutcracker roared as he felt the Wraith deviate from his orders and start to attack the Chosen One, he could feel the essence he so desperately wanted being sucked away but could only stand in his darkened motel room. He roared again as The Protector entered the picture and his Puppet was banished meaning he would have to finish this alone, would have to revert back to how he had been all those years ago, slinking his way through the shadows to get to his prize. He sat on the bed that rested against the same wall his prizes did and contemplated what had gone so wrong, his plan had been a good one, his only flaw was trusting The Wraith. His bitter thoughts were soon lightened though as he felt The One once more, felt his prize returning to the motel, maybe after all things would still go his way, maybe by the beginning of a new dawn the prize would once more be within his grasp. He heard the rumble of the car entering the property, heard the struggles of The Protector as he fought to get The One back inside, heard The Protectors thoughts and prayers as he wished for The One awaken, and he cackled loudly as a new devious plan formed in his splintered mind.

"So Protector you have foiled me yet again, but I will have that which should be mine, I will still have the last laugh before the new day breaks believe me. Now watch as your brother weakens, watch as he struggles, and as you do so believe the news that I create."

Dean had slumped onto his own bed after he had changed his brother out of his rain and sweat soaked clothing into dry and warm sweats and Tee. He had felt the fever that raged throughout Sam's body, could see the chills that shook his frame, but there was little he could do to ease either of them, Sam oblivious to the world refusing to waken to take the meds Dean had taken from their well stocked supplies, leaving him with no other choice but to place ice filled cloths in strategic places and cover him up with blankets. It seemed to do little to help though, and Dean could tell Sam was getting worse not better and made a promise to himself that if his brother still refused to awaken by morning they would risk a trip to a hospital. For the rest of the night Dean had fought against the fatigue that threatened to consume him, downing numerous cups of badly tasting coffee, eating everything he could get his hands on, and enduring endless episodes of the badly made paranormal tv shows that seemed to be the only thing playing at that time of night, although at one point a cackle of a laugh had seemed so life like. As yet another repeat started Dean finally admitted enough was enough and began to flick through the channels, skimming across most of them before one grabbed his attention. It couldn't be, they had destroyed it hadn't they? But as the reporter spoke again, Dean's doubts began to increase.

"_So I repeat again, the Buffalo Stalker has struck once more, the victim this time a child. 8 year old Gracie Smith was murdered as her parents slept through the thunder storms passing over head, unknowing that she had managed to exit her home, her only wish to play in the rain, something she apparently loved to do. Only the shouts from outside alerted them to the fact that their daughter had ventured from her bed. This is Tony Masters and I will have more on this story after this short commercial break."_

Dean though didn't want to hear more, he had followed the ritual to the letter, what could have gone wrong? He had to see for himself that this was in fact the work of The Wraith, but that would mean leaving Sam alone. He battled with what to do, in the end deciding that Sam would want him to check this out, that his brother would insist. He wrote a quick note explaining and left it on the night stand with a glass of water and the meds he had gathered earlier, uncertain if Sam would wake whilst he was gone but wanting to be prepared incase he did. Pulling on his boots and jacket, he snatched up the Impala keys from where he had dropped them on the small table and made his way to the door, stopping as he opened it to take a quick look back at his brother, a bad feeling niggling at the back of his mind. Putting it down to the young girls death he stepped outside determined to find out what had gone wrong.

The Nutcracker shivered in anticipation as he felt The Protector leave. His Chosen One was now all alone with little to protect him, everything was going to plan again. He slunk out of his own room and tested the door to the brothers, not surprised to find it locked. Sneaking it's way around the back of the motel he counted down the rooms until he was stood outside his Chosen Ones, an evil smirk contorting his face as he noticed the bathroom window slightly ajar, it's wooden frame so warped it refused to close properly. He looked around for something to boost him up enough to reach the opening, his eyes glinting with malice as he spotted an upturned garbage can resting mere feet away. Within minutes he had pulled it close to the wall, minutes later he had opened the window more. As the new day cast it's pink tinted rays across the sky, he stood over his prize with lust filled eyes.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . I hope that you enjoyed? Will try and not keep you waiting as long for chapter 9. Catch you soon, Peanut x**


	9. Chapter 9

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . I'm so sorry that this update took so long, as I said in my Hope update, real life is desperately trying to knock me down a few pegs, which in turn has knocked my motivation for six. As always thanks for stopping by to read, catch you later, Peanut x**

The further he drove away from the motel back to the crime scene, the more he began to feel that something was wrong. He didn't know what it was, a sixth sense maybe, but something was tinkering on the edge of his thoughts, a feeling that he had to get back to Sam, As he turned down the road where they had banished the Wraith, that feeling increased immensely. The road was quiet and empty, dots of lights beginning to appear in windows as the residents of the early shifts began to rise. No police cars were parked at odd angles, there red and blues flashing, blocking the scene from view. No crime tape was stretched across the pathways, keeping back morbidly fascinated crowds.

Realization struck Dean like a vicious blow to the chest, nothing had happened here since they had left, no one had died, no crime committed, he'd been tricked, duped into believing that they had failed somehow and a life had been lost because of it, but why? And by who? The gnawing feeling began to rise within him once again, a feeling he realized he hadn't had since the night he had driven away from his younger brother's apartment at Stanford, a feeling that something bad was about to happen. He didn't bother stopping to make sure everything was okay, instead he slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel harshly the big car spinning madly in the middle of the deserted street, once he was facing back the way he came he eased off the brakes and slammed on the gas one thought in mind, get back to Sam, get back to Sam now.

It was less than an hour later that he was once again pulling into the parking space the motel provided for them, his mind so full of worry for his brother, he raced from the car without even bothering to lock it and dashed for the room. He paused at the door, not wanting to risk Sam by running in all guns a blazing, and listened carefully hoping to hear anything that would give him a clue that Sam was either alright, or in deep trouble; but all he could hear was the distant rumble of the freeway. Placing the key in the hole, he slowly and quietly unlocked the door, pushing it gently open once he had done so. Once the gap was big enough he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, his pounding heart thudding in his ears, only stopping once he was able to make out Sam's still resting form on the bed. Moving the door open even further he stepped inside and made his way quickly to his brother's side, his fingers automatically ghosting over his form, checking him.

He sat on the very edge of the bed, once he had found nothing more to cause him worry over his brother's health, and lightly grasped one of Sam's hands in his own, his thumb rubbing softly over his siblings in a rare show of affection, that if Sam were awake would have been hidden. His mind wandered as the repetitive action caused him to calm down even more, his thoughts drifting to the news report he had seen and acted upon. Was he dreaming it? Or was something messing with his mind whilst he was awake? If so, just what had the power to do that? And why? It was the shadow that alerted him to another presence in the room, his body shifting protectively over Sam as his head turned to see what threatened them both, only catching a glimpse before his world turned black and he slumped unceremoniously on top of his brother, familiar cackling laughter the last thing he heard.

So engrossed in being so close to his release from this hell once more, he very nearly missed the rumble of the big engine returning, the older brother, the Protector had grown smarter over the years it seemed, not taking nearly as long to figure out he was being played as he thought he would have, giving him little time to get the Prize away. Reluctantly he moved away from his Prize, not before he ran his hands seductively along his prize, and back into the shadows of the bathroom where he watched and waited for the chance he knew would come.

He quelled down his anger and rage, as he watched the Protector cautiously enter the room before placing himself protectively next to his sibling, but as he took one of his Prizes hands in his own, that anger and rage bubbled over. The Prize was his, and his alone, no one else was to touch it. Moving free from the shadows he stalked his prey, his axe rising slowly in his hand. When he was ready he alerted his prey to his presence by shifting slightly to the side, allowing his shadow to fall. As the prey turned he struck, giving it little chance to protect itself, the blunt edge of the axe slamming viciously into his head.

He growled as he fell upon his prize, the hostile sound quickly turning into malicious laughter as realization fell. Now he was free to take his Prize and flee. Using powers he had collected over the years, he flung the Protector's body aside, not caring when it slammed harshly into the dry wall of the room; his mind now consumed with his Prize, and his soon to be release back into the world. Using his powers once again, he started to pull his Prize from the bed, his trophy gliding effortlessly across the carpeted flooring, through the door and into the dawning day.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Another apology I'm afraid, sorry it's short and a bit of a filler, I just needed to give the Nutcracker more time to whisk Sam away before the real action starts. Will be back soon with more, Peanut x**


	10. Chapter 10

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke****.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Still no change in my not so great real life, I'm still hanging in a bit of limbo at the moment, unable to work and completely bored out of my mind at home, but I'm putting a brave face on things and trying to have a great Christmas anyway, and writing is helping even if it is still a slow process. Here's chapter 12 of When The Past Returns To Haunt You, enjoy. Peanut x**

He didn't bother with an alter this time, making do with the rough hewn patchy carpet, and a thread bare sheet placed upon it. He'd demanded his puppet retrieve all the ingredients he needed for the ritual before his demise, the bags of candles, herbs and chalices placed in the dark corner of the room. He wanted to start now before he ran the risk of being caught, desperate to feel human once again, to start reeking havoc upon those he deemed responsible for the life he had been given, he had after all been an upstanding member of the community, in his eyes never doing anything wrong; those children after all had deserved the punishments he had inflicted upon them, to be treated as he had was a travesty, to have had to have lived the life they had forced upon him was a cruel and unreasonable retribution.

He knew though, that to rush would run it's own risks, his half wooden body needed to be rested, needed to gather strength for the task he was about to undertake, if he didn't he ran the risk of faltering mid ritual and that was something that he couldn't afford to do. Making his way over to his Prize, he ran a hand across the still life, trembling in anticipation at what that life held for him. Ensuring that he was weak enough to stay under whilst he reposed, the Nutcracker made his way to the other side of the room and backed silently into the shadows.

Dean woke slowly, his mind a jumbled mess, what had he had to drink last night? Where had he even been last night? And who the hell had he gone home with, cause this room was freakin' freezing? He risked opening an eye, slamming it back closed again as sunlight slammed harshly into him, setting off a crescendo of banging within his skull. Once the nausea, that had started to churn, had settled he risked another look, his mind put a little at ease as he recognized the rough carpet and the cheap, floral bedspreads of their latest motel room.

"Sammy? Get me some coffee and painkillers, I think I must have downed a whole bar last night. And turn up the god damn heating will ya, it's freezing in here." He didn't worry at first, thinking that Sam could have been in the bathroom, but when the minutes continued to pass and no movement was to be heard, he decided to risk moving and see if Sam had ventured out. It was the feel of the carpet beneath his fingers that first aroused his suspicions. "What the hell am I doing on the floor?" He asked of himself, his supposed hangover disappearing the more he became aware of just where he was, he wasn't just on the floor, he was on the floor by the side of his brother's bed.

"Sammy?" He inquired again, forcing his body to move from off the floor. "Sammy!?" He shouted louder as he caught sight of the empty bed. Looking towards the bathroom he prayed that the light was on, that Sam was just going through his morning routine, but the door was open. He looked towards the table where he remembered Sam leaving his coat, wondering if he had stepped out, only to see his brother's coat still resting there and no note, that he always insisted they leave. It was then he noticed the sheets pulled off the bed as though someone had been dragged from it, and the door that stood open, the source of the chill he had been feeling.

He rushed for the door but could see nothing, his mind a whirlwind of emotions, just what the hell had happened here? He forced his mind to come under control, forced the memories to come back. Sam's sudden illness, the hunt for the Wraith, their success or so he thought, Sam's continuing failing health, the news reports that turned out to be bogus, his flight back to his brother, and his feelings that every thing was okay, so what had happened. He sat down in the rooms only chair turning his memories over in his mind, he was missing something he could feel it, but what? When it finally hit, it had him rushing for the bathroom. The Nutcracker. The wooden nightmare from his brother's past had come back to return, but how? He reached for his phone after expelling what little remained of his lunch, only to get no answer from his first call, trying another number he was thankful when after a few rings it was answered.

"Bobby, what happened to the Nutcracker?" Dean asked, not wasting time with hello's.

"Dean? Is that you? What are you going on about? And hello to you too."

"I don't have time to mess around Bobby, I just need to know what you and Dad and Caleb did with the Nutcracker."

"What?"

"Bobby, don't mess around. Sam's missing and I'm positive it was that freakin' Nutcracker. I told you me and Sam had been thinking about it, well it seems he's back. Now what did you do with it? And don't give me the same old story that you gave me all those years ago. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ." He was about to rant on further, missing the sudden silence from Bobby, only stopping as his friend finally spoke up.

"Shit Dean, I'm so sorry I completely forgot. Your Daddy told you we had destroyed it because we couldn't find away at the time to destroy it. We locked it up, and stored it somewhere safe."

"Where Bobby? Where did you store it?"

"In your Daddy's lock up."

"Son of a bitch! God damn it! The same lock up that was just broken in to?"

"The same one." Bobby answered, ignoring the burst of particularly bad language the younger man produced at his words.

"Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he warn me that that thing was still out there? That it was still a threat?"

"He did what he thought was best Dean, he didn't want you, or Sam to be constantly looking over your shoulders wondering when it would return."

"I would have taken that burden on Bobby. I should have been told, it's my responsibility to look after Sam, he should have warned me, you should have warned me."

"Maybe, but what's done is done, and there aint nothing we can do to change that now. What I don't get though is how it's been released? That was some serious mojo I stuck on that box. Are you sure it's been released?"

"I'm sure, and I have the bump and bruise on my head to prove it." Dean paused and took a deep breath before adding. "I don't know what to do Bobby. I don't know where to start. I nearly lost him last time and we had Dad and Caleb helping."

"Dean, we'll get him back, and this time we'll make no mistakes. This time I know a way. This time we'll kill it. I'm on my way to you, I should be there within a few hours."

"Bobby we're in Buffalo, that's more than a few hours away."

"I know my geography boy, I left earlier. Got a bit worried after your last call and wanted to check to see if you boys were okay. I'm glad I did now. Start looking for any warehouses, or abandoned locations that are dark, it's what he went for last time, maybe he'll stick to his old habits. Dean, I'll be there soon. We'll get him back I promise."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . As always thanks for taking time out to read, will be back soon with more, Peanut x**


	11. Chapter 11

**When The Past Returns To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbits foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke. **

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . So I've finally kicked myself in the butt and pushed myself to start getting back into the writing again. I do have new things bubbling away, but I've decided to hold off on them until I finish some of my older pieces, so I've gone waaaaaayyyyy back and opened up this fic again. For those who have been reading this from the start, I am so very sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoy, Peanut x**

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Dean slumped down heavily upon Sam's empty bed, his phone dropping from his limp fingers as the enormity of the knowledge Bobby had given him hit, and the thought of the task ahead struck him hard. It added to the guilt that already coursed through him, and completely drained him, causing him to doubt his abilities. Could he do this? Could he be strong enough? Was he smart enough? In his eyes his Daddy was the strongest wisest man he had ever known, but the Nutcracker had beaten him. How in the hell could a pale imitation of John Winchester, which was how he saw himself, do any better? He couldn't. He couldn't save Sam before, why would this time be any different.

He pounded the mattress in frustration, taking out his fears and doubts and anger upon the lumpy piece of foam and springs, hitting harder and harder until he was breathing heavy and his heart was thumping; his hand fisting one last time and slamming into the sheets where it unclenched and grasped at the cotton. As his fingers touched the still sweat soaked material, and felt the remnants of Sam's warmth that still lingered there, it was as if a switch was thrown within him. He could do this. He had to do this, he had no choice, Sam's life depended upon it. Rubbing a hand across his face, he stood, now was not the time to feel sorry for himself, he had work to do. Moving to the table he booted up Sam's laptop, and began researching all the places listed as being abandoned, within minutes he had a list and was picking up his jacket preparing to leave, a new resolve burning within him.

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He slammed the car door shut harder than he intended to, but for once he didn't care. He was halfway through his search and so far everywhere he had checked had been empty and void, a bit like how he was feeling. Sam's time was running out, he could feel it deep within himself, he had to find the right place soon, or he knew without a doubt it would be too late. He jumped as his phone sounded out, the ringtone sharp and loud within the confines of the car. Checking the caller ID he quickly picked up.

"Bobby, please tell me you're close by, I'm running outta time here."

"Just pasted the city limits, had to stop off along the way to get the items we'd need for the ritual. I take it from your tone you aint found nothing yet?"

"Just a whole lotta dead space, and I aint got many left to check, and even less time to check them."

"Well to save time, give me some addresses over the phone. If I find anything I'll call and let you know." Bobby wrote down the recited addresses before adding. "And Dean, don't lose faith now. We'll find him, and when we do we'll put an end to this once and for all." With a slightly lighter heart Dean cut the connection.

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Two more abandoned buildings later though, and that heavy heart had returned, as yet again his searches had turned up nothing. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he quickly dialed Bobby's number, praying all the while that the older hunter had turned up something, yet knowing realistically that he hadn't, he would have called.

"Bobby." He shouted harshly down the phone when it was picked up. "Have you found anything?"

"Don't ya think I woulda called if I had?" Bobby replied, his own frustration showing through. "They were all empty, just like the ones you'd searched earlier. I guess you hit a zero as well."

"Yeah, completely deserted, even the dust had dust on it."

"Damn it! You gotta think Dean. Was there anywhere else that you may have considered yet thought better of?"

"No, I wrote down every warehouse, every barn, every house that fit the bill. I didn't leave anything out just in case."

"Well he can't have just disappeared right from in front of you. Think Dean!" Bobby waited for some kind of comeback from the younger man, concern creeping in when none was forthcoming. "Dean? Dean! Answer me God damn it!"

"No! It can't be, surely that would be too easy?"

"Dean, what the hell is going on? What couldn't be that easy?" He asked, waiting once again for Dean's answer.

Dean though was oblivious to Bobby's questions. He couldn't believe he had been so blind. He just couldn't believe it, could it be that obvious? Could he have been so stupid to overlook it? Could he have been that stupid to not even consider it? The out of the way location; the crumbling almost abandoned like state of the building; the deserted parking lot devoid of all cars; the way Sam got sicker and sicker the more time they spent there; the way Sam reacted when his fingers touched the wall to the next room; the way his own feelings intensified whilst staying there; the sheets that still felt of Sam's warmth. Son of a bitch!

"That's it Bobby!"

"What? What's it?"

"The motel!"

"What? What about the motel?"

"He's at the motel Bobby. Sam's at the motel, he never even left it."

"How the hell could you know that?"

"I can feel it." Knowing that would not be enough for the seasoned hunter Dean added all the thoughts that had just gone through his head, starting up the Impala as he did so. "Bobby he's there, I know just know he is."

"Dean, don't run in there blind, you wait for me to get there, do you hear me? You wait for me to get there."

Dean though had already hung up, his thoughts focused once more on Sam. He was right about this he knew he was. Pushing down harder on the car he urged the V8 to produce more. This ended tonight.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Thanks for taking time out to read this chapter. Catch you soon, Peanut x**


	12. Chapter 12

**When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbit's foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke. **

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . It seems as though I have an apology in every chapter I write these days, but this one I wish with all my heart I didn't have to write. This chapter had been sitting on my laptop, ready to be fine-tuned and posted, when I got an emergency call from back home stating that my Mum was seriously ill and I needed to return asap; I made it home, but unfortunately my Mum never awoke and passed peacefully a few days later. She always loved reading whatever I wrote and I know she would want me to carry on doing so, so I dedicate this chapter, and all future writings to her, and pray that wherever she's now resting they bring her the enjoyment they did when she was here. Gillian x**

**A.N. 2. . . . . . . . . . Thanks to all who took time out to read the last chapter, after that long break away, and to those who reviewed also. Here's chapter 12, I hope that you enjoy this one also. Peanut x**

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Dean stole a glance at his watch, angry curses falling from his lips, and his foot pressing down harder on the gas urging the big car to produce more speed, as he noticed how close to midnight it actually was. He turned off the Impala's engine, as he got closer, and coasted into the motel's parking lot taking up a space as far from the building itself as he could possibly get. He opened the door slowly; for once the creak of the heavy metal, that would normally bring him reassurance, causing him nothing but irritation as it sounded loudly in the otherwise still night, no matter how hard he tried to prevent it. He slipped out of the car as soon as the gap was big enough, and closed it quickly this time before making his way to the trunk. He stalled when he got there; not knowing what weapons to take with him, not knowing what would or wouldn't be effective. Maybe he should have listened to Bobby more, asked him more questions, or maybe even wait for the man; but stubbornness was John Winchester's most famous trait, and Dean was every bit his father's son. In the end he chose a flare gun, salt, accelerant, and some rope; adding his favorite handgun to the mix before snapping the trunk closed.

He kept close to the edge of the lot and used the shadows to inch his way closer to the motel, stopping first at the office, wanting to check the register. He paused at the entrance, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he noticed the lack of light coming from inside. Pushing open the door he eased his way inside, his mind wondering where the teenage attendant was, hoping he was outback getting stoned on the weed he had told Dean at check in he could get him at a reasonable price, but the copper tang in the air telling him he wasn't. Keeping to the wall he edged around the counter, bile rising, a hand covering his mouth at the sight that he witnessed.

The boy had been slaughtered; his throat split to the bone, his body hacked at, his insides spilling from the gaping wounds, his face a death mask forever contorted with the agony he had obviously felt as the life drained from him. Dean was pissed, the boy had been no threat, there had been no reason to have inflicted so much torture. He wanted to avenge the boy's death, and maybe he would get the chance too, but Sam came first, if it meant killing the Nutcracker fast to save Sam then he would do so. Walking over to the old fashioned ledger the motel still used he scrolled down the page, checking dates as he went, noting that until he saw his own fake name scrawled, nobody had registered for weeks, the motel making its money by selling rooms discreetly by the hour; after his own signature though there was one more, Grossman, and it was registered to the room right next door to their own. He was right, Sam had never left.

Taking a deep breathe, Dean walked back over to the door, and slowly began to inch his way down the row of empty rooms, passing their own before stopping. He backed up against the wall, all his senses on high alert. He listened for any sign of movement from inside the Nutcrackers room, but even though the walls were paper thin, no sound resounded out. Slowly he turned his body, moving his head towards a gap he had seen in the curtains, his face shifting closer and closer.

When it happened it caught Dean completely off guard, his heart seeming to stop, his breathe catching, his body jerking, his balance giving away, and he stumbled backwards his arms flailing. He landed heavily on his back, stunned momentarily. He watched, frozen for a minute, as the Nutcracker dropped the curtain back into place before the door to the room opened and the grisly site of a half human half mannequin stepped from the room.

Dean tried to move his legs, tried to move his hands, but it was as if he was solidified to the spot. His eyes moved frantically around his sockets, searching for a demon, having only ever felt this way in the presence of one, but it was just himself and the Nutcracker. It bent down towards him its half wood half flesh face within inches of his own as, it oak and enamel teeth bearing as it spoke.

"I felt your proximity Protector. I knew you were here, so I paused in my ministrations and awaited your attempt at rescue. You being here will make this so much more fun, I'll get to take what is rightfully mine, whilst feeding off your emotions at the same time. Now come, you will have a front row seat as my full restoration is completed. Come!"

Dean didn't know how it was happening, but he could do little as he was dragged within the room without the Nutcracker even laying a finger upon him, once inside he was forced into a chair, the ropes he had been carrying used against him, slipping around his torso and tied tightly behind him. He looked around for Sam, but could see little in the gloom of the room. He fought and battled, needing to get free to find his sibling and get them out of there, but the bonds were too strong, and his attempts at escape futile. He stalled momentarily as the malicious beast spoke up yet again.

"I've learnt much over the year's young one. I wouldn't bother trying to break free, you'll never succeed." The Nutcracker, moved back in front of Dean as his struggles started once more. "You bother me. I need silence to concentrate, and I see I won't get that silence by asking, so maybe I need to try something else." Pulling back his tattered red jacket and lifting the white shirt beneath, he scratched wooden fingers savagely against newly formed flesh and began to recite words softly. The result was instantaneous, as Sam's screams echoed around the room. The older Winchester jumped as he was once more psychically pulled, chair and all, across the room. His mind trying to prepare itself for a sight he knew he wouldn't like as he finally caught sight of his brother.

Hidden behind the partition that tried to offer separation between the living space and bedroom, Sam's body writhed upon the dirty and threadbare carpet. Divested of most of his clothes, he lay in just his sleep pants within a circle made from what to Dean looked like blood, a cross running through it black candles burning at each end, and another above his head; his brother's arms and legs running parallel to the lines. His back was arched in agony, sweat glistening upon his torso, his burns and scars clearly on show. Dean could only watch as the Nutcracker's fingers dragged across its own body yet again, could only watch as the same lines were rent across Sam, trailing through the scars, only to disappear; trail, disappear, trail, disappear.

"Stop it!" Dean cried out once he had returned to his senses from the shock. "Stop it, please. You're hurting him."

"What this?" The Nutcracker asked as he tracked his hand across his stomach once again, laughing at Sam's distress and savoring each scream that tore from his mouth. "This is just playtime." He paused his face once more coming within inches of Dean's own, his rancid breath fouling the air with each word he spoke. "The hurting is still to come, so I say we begin."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . .Thanks fo**

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**r taking time out to read, catch you soon, Peanut x**


	13. Chapter 13

**When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbit's foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke. **

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Sorry it has taken so long to update, getting through my first Christmas without my Mum, turned out to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. Thanks for sticking with me. Peanut x**

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Dean begged and pleaded and beseeched the Nutcracker to stop, and when that didn't work he swore and demanded and threatened, but still the wooden puppet continued to assault and torture the youngest Winchester, until Sam no longer cried out in pain, his throat torn hoarse, until he no longer thrashed about upon the floor, his body limp and spent. Dean, once he saw Sam so broken, tried to stay calm, hoping and praying that if the Nutcracker gained no reaction from him he might give up, but it seemed as though the creature could read his mind, could see what he was aiming for, because if anything Dean's silence angered him all the more, his wooden nails pressing even harder upon his own flesh, the resulting marks simultaneously ripping into Sam's body.

The older Winchester began struggling once more, feeling the coarse fibers of the rope tearing into the soft unyielding skin of his wrists, feeling the blood as it dripped from the open wounds, but little caring as the need to save prevent Sam from hurting even more consumed his every thought. Sweat and tears fought as they streamed down his face, his own voice began to break as he shouted time and time again for his sibling, hoping that he could break through Sam's pain even for a second and let him know no to give up, that he was there, that he would fix this; his struggles and shouts subsiding slightly as he began to realize he didn't know how to fix this, didn't know how he was going to stop Sam's pain.

He watched with revulsion as the Nutcracker ran his fingers down Sam's sweat soaked body and raised the digits to his mouth where he sucked greedily upon them, his oak eyes closing in contentment, a look of pleasure crossing his normally malicious features, a sigh of bliss escaping his mouth before he spoke.

"Ah, such a sweet bouquet! The taste of fear with a few rich notes of pain running through it, and an aftertaste of a hidden power." The words fell from his lips as though he were describing a bottle of the world's best wine, and not the suffering of his unfortunate victim.

It infuriated Dean all the more, made him want to tear and shred and rip the mannequin into tiny little pieces, words fell from his own lips, words that promised suffering and torture and carnage of his own, but the Nutcracker just turned slightly, looking at Dean haughtily over one shoulder and smirked before turning his attention back to the man who's suffering and ultimately who's death would turn him back into the human he so richly deserved to be, who would give him back the life that was so cruelly taken from him, who would free him to take revenge upon those that had banished him.

He began to chant, the Creole falling easily from his lips, the flames of the candles burning brighter with every word. He'd had enough, it was time to end this, it was time to return to the man he once was. He picked up the candle that was placed at Sam's head and moving to the pliant man's side allowed the hot wax to fall upon the chilled body, a pattern quickly forming, as yet more words were spoken. Once complete he replaced the candle and instead took out a knife hidden inside his long black boot. Holding it with both hands high above his head, he stole a quick glance at his other captive, a sickening twinkle in his eyes, that same smirk upon his face, before aiming the blade for the middle of the pattern he had created.

"Noooooooooooooooo!" Dean screamed, his heart thudding in his chest, every muscle straining upon his body, this wasn't right, this couldn't be happening, it shouldn't end like this, it couldn't end like this, after everything that they'd been through, after everything Sam had been through, this wasn't how he was supposed to die. He turned his head away and closed his eyes unwilling to see Sam mutilated, but he soon found himself drawn back, soon found his lids reluctantly opening and his eyes focusing, and the sight that befell him shocked him to his very core.

Stealthily, quietly Bobby had stolen his way into the room, coming up behind the crazed mannequin as he began to strike, his own arm striking out, a silver flask glistening in the candlelight as he dumped the Louisiana swamp water that had been blessed by a descendant of the Nutcrackers original victims all over his wooden frame, the result instantaneous as the wooden figure was halted by a power even greater than its own. The older hunter moved quickly, untying Dean's bonds and helping the younger man stand. They moved quickly to pull Sam from underneath the weapon aimed for his heart and up onto one of the nearby beds, questions falling thick and fast from Dean's lips as they worked; questions that Bobby steadfastly chose to ignore, knowing that Dean would not like the answers he gave back if he replied.

Dean though was persistent; his brain figuring out that there was still more bad news to come forth, and although he didn't want to hear it, he knew deep down he would have to. He turned the older man around to face him. "Bobby! Stop! Answer the god damn question! Is this it? Is it all over? Will that stuff kill it?" One look into Bobby's eyes and Dean knew it was not over, it would not kill it. "So what do we have to do? How do we stop this for good? You said you had a way."

"I do have a way Dean, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it. I tried to tell you to wait, didn't want to tell you on the phone, wanted you to come in here knowing exactly what was about to happen, but you had to rush in before I got here, and now if we don't do this we will never get another shot."

"Do what Bobby? What do we have to do to save Sam?"

Bobby took his hat off and rubbed a hand through his hair and down over his chin, sighing heavily he answered. "To save Sam, to break the bond between him and the Nutcracker. . . . . . . ." He paused and reached into the heavy duffle bag he had brought in, pulling out something that had Dean's eyes widening in shock. "To save Sam, we first have to kill him." Bobby finally ground out as he placed the portable defibrillator upon the bed next to the prone man.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . I hope it was worth the wait? Please feel free to let me know. As always thank you so much for taking time out to read this chapter, will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	14. Chapter 14

**When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbit's foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke. **

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Two chapters in one week! Wow, I'm either feeling ill, or I'm finally back in the swing of things; here's hoping it's the latter. Peanut x**

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Previously. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Do what Bobby? What do we have to do to save Sam?"

Bobby took his hat off and rubbed a hand through his hair and down over his chin, sighing heavily he answered. "To save Sam, to break the bond between him and the Nutcracker. . . . . . . ." He paused and reached into the heavy duffle bag he had brought in, pulling out something that had Dean's eyes widening in shock. "To save Sam, we first have to kill him." Bobby finally ground out as he placed the portable defibrillator upon the bed next to the prone man.

* * *

"Come again?" Dean managed to get out, once the shock of Bobby's announcement had started to abate. "I could have sworn you said we'd have to kill Sam to save him. You gotta be freaking kidding me, right?" One look at the older man's features though told Dean he had heard right the first time. "No!"

"Dean!"

"I said no, Bobby. You find another way; some other spell; or ritual; or hell, even a deal, because we aint using this one."

"Don't you think I've tried, ya idyit? Don't you think when this first happened I didn't spend weeks, months, hell even years searching for a way to break this? It was pure dumb luck that I even found a way this time. Do you really think I would suggest this if I thought for even one second there would be another way?" Bobby forced his growing anger down, it would do them no good, and deep down he felt exactly the same way Dean did. He hated the thought or what he was about to do; hated the thought of what could go wrong; but it was the only way to kill this thing for sure. "Dean, I know you don't want to do this, but look how this has turned out. Do you really want to take a chance and lock this thing back up again? Or do you want Sam free from it for good?"

Dean moved over to where Sam lay, and brushed sweat soaked bangs from his eyes. His whole demeanor seemed to deflate as he looked back up to the older man, who he now considered a father to them both, his eyes brimming with wetness. "I want this over for Sam, of course I do, but I just wish there was another way. What if it goes wrong? What if it doesn't work? What if we can't bring Sam back?"

"Dean, believe me, I feel the same way, but it is the only way. We have to do this, and we have to do this now; we don't have much time left, that potion won't last much longer." Bobby noted the change as it washed over the younger man, noted the gradual set of his shoulders, and clenching of his fists. He watched as he took one last long look at his sibling, before he turned back his way.

"Okay, we do this, but I'll be the one to do it, so tell me what I need to do."

"The same descendent that created the holy water potion also created this." He took out two loaded syringes from his breast pocket, and held one out to Dean. "This one will kill Sam. His death will bring the Nutcracker back to human form, there'll be a few minutes where he'll be weak, but he'll still be able to cast his own spells, you have to find a way to prevent him from doing so. You have to understand Dean, he will be human once again; will you be okay with that? Will you be okay killing a human?" At seeing Dean reluctantly nod in agreement he added. "We need to finish this in that time Dean; I don't want to risk Sam being under any longer than that. Plus I don't think I have to tell you what will happen if he gets his strength and his powers back, so let's make sure he doesn't."

"What's the other syringe for?"

"This one will help bring Sam back, but we only have five minutes to administer it before it's rendered useless, and I can't use it if the Nutcracker's human form is still alive, that's why I brought the defibrillator. Dean, this will work."

"It has too Bobby, Sam's life depends upon it, and I won't lose him, I can't lose him."

"We won't Dean, he's a born fighter, we won't lose him. Now are you ready?" Dean looked his way and nodded once more, that steely Winchester determination strongly present once more, and emanating from every pore of his body. "What do you want to do? Look after Sam, or kill that damn thing?"

Dean took a moment to think, his mind torn two ways, he really wanted to look after Sam, but that freakin' wooden puppet had messed with his family for too long now. "I'm gonna take out this son of a bitch! I'll take out the Nutcracker; you just make sure Sammy comes back.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Sorry it's so short; it's just a filler before the real action begins. Thanks as always for taking time out to read this fic, will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	15. Chapter 15

**When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbit's foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke. **

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Wow! This must be some kind of record for me, 3 chapters in as many days! I must be back. Peanut x**

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Bobby waited for the younger man to get into place, waited for him to bind the Nutcracker's arms and legs, waited for the gruff "let's do this" to fall from his lips, before he took up Sam's limp arm, and found a workable vein. He picked up the needle, flicked it a couple of times, and pushed the plunger until all the air and a tiny spurt of the liquid inside squeezed out. Placing it against Sam's skin, he pushed inside, depressing the plunger all the way once the needle had found its mark. Once empty he hastily pulled it back out, and haphazardly threw it on the floor, anywhere away from him; the act he had just done making him hate the damn thing, and the little blood he could see on its end making him not care where it landed, so long as it was away from him. He hand now free, he placed his fingers against Sam's wrist, whilst his eyes watched the younger man's chest, and waited.

Dean had stood off to the side, out of the way while Bobby worked. His emotions were in turmoil. He hated this, hated the plan, hated what the Nutcracker had done to Sam, hated that he himself hadn't been able to protect his brother. He just wanted to lift Sam up, carry his heavy ass outta here, and wrap the damn kid up in cotton wool for the rest of his life. But he knew he couldn't, knew that this was the only way to defeat this damn thing once and for all. So he stood back and allowed Bobby to watch over Sam. He tried not to look as the needle was forced into his brother, tried not to look as the Nutcracker grew before his very eyes, tried to concentrate upon the task he would soon have to do, but his brain refused to send the command, and time and time again he found himself unable to keep his eyes from straying to his sibling; his heart lying heavy within his chest, his eyes brimming with tears. Tears that began to fall freely as he watched Sam's chest rise for the last time, watched Bobby's hand scramble to Sam's neck for final confirmation, watched as the older hunter's head dropped to his chest and he softly spoke "It's time Dean, do it now."

They thought he was controlled; thought he was secure; thought he was, for the time being, no risk to them; thought he couldn't hear; but they thought wrong, were too lax, too confident, he could hear everything and he was about to use that over confidence against them. He'd panicked at first when the potion hit, cried out silently within when he smelt and felt the essence of his long ago victims once more, and vowed to reap vengeance upon them all when he was finally free. He could hear the protector and another plotting his demise and that panic, for a time, increased. Then he felt it, felt the strength of the One as is flowed around his body. He fought and battled and struggled against the powerful potion, his anger and desperation increasing as no matter what he did, he couldn't break free from the hold. He felt the rough fibers of the rope as it was wrapped securely around his wrists and ankles, and for a second began to mourn for what was about to happen, for what he had failed to accomplish, and then he felt something.

It was tiny at first, so small a movement he felt sure he had imagined it, but then it happened again. He forced himself to remain calm, to limit his movements so as not to be noticed, forced his eyes to stay unfocussed and still; but as he felt the essence of the One begin to enter its body, that calmness became all the more harder to control. There was still a chance, he could still win, could still seek revenge upon all those that had treated him so poorly; starting with the one's that had hurt him last, the one's that had tried to prevent him from reaching his destiny. He felt invigorated as the transformation back into human form began, but he stayed still and silent. Felt elation when the One's last breath left its lungs, and his own began to inflate. He watched and waited, and when grief hung heavy within the room like a low lying fog, he struck.

Dean turned at Bobby's words, his anger and grief raw within him, his patience gone. He didn't care that the Nutcracker was now Human, didn't care that in essence what he was about to do would be murder, it had hurt Sam, it had terrorized him, it had killed him. Sure they had deployed the toxin, but if it hadn't have been for this damn puppet they wouldn't have had to. Grabbing his gun, he moved over to where he had left the Nutcracker, he wanted to take his time, wanted it to be messy, but he knew time was something he didn't have. He had to aim true; he had to make sure on the first try. He readied himself, bending over the now fully formed human he positioned himself and began to take aim, the barrel glinting in the light of the candles that still flickered as it arched and then began its descent. He began to press the trigger, releasing as bound arms shot up to push the aim away, as at the same time vicious and cruel eyes focused clearly upon him.

"Crap, Bobby it's awake, the potions wore off."

"Kill it now Dean, kill it before it becomes too strong, before it gets a spell out, it's still too weak to use his powers."

"I'm trying god damn it." Dean ground out; he panicked as he saw Bobby begin to rise. "No! No! You stay with Sam, you protect Sam. You be ready. No matter what Bobby, you get him back."

Bobby sat back down, torn between which brother to help, but he knew Dean was right, he had to protect Sam, and he had to be ready for when the time came to bring him back.

Dean pushed with all his strength, cursing whoever had made the treated Holy water for not making it stronger. He found himself winning, found the gun's sight inching closer and closer to its mark, as the Nutcrackers limited strength began to wane. He thought this was it, thought this was the finish, but as the man began to open his mouth he realized just how far from the end he truly was.

"Two minutes gone Dean, hurry up."

He didn't bother answering, knew that Bobby wouldn't expect him too; instead he reacted to the threat. He tried to hold the gun down with one hand, as his other punched harshly at the other man's throat, his aim true, and the words the nutcracker had been about to speak halted. The Nutcracker used the distraction though, he let go of the protectors arms, his body rolling to the side as his attackers heavy weight fell, the gun going off, the bullet piercing through the skin of his arm, the pain new to him after so long, but instead of allowing it to overcome him, he used it to his advantage, used it to spur himself on. He moved swiftly, his bound arms shooting out and striking Dean across the face with a blow that, if at full strength, would have knocked the man out, but only stunned him. His legs lashed out, the aim true as they clattered into Dean's hand, knocking the gun clear across the room. His bound hands struck again, and again found their mark, again only stunning. His legs shot out once more, his full weight behind the blow that caught Dean's groin perfectly, the Protector crumbling in pain.

"Three minutes Dean." He heard the other hunter proclaim, the man not able to see what was going on behind the partition of the room.

He used the time wisely, used his returning strength to pull and tug at his bonds. He didn't care that the rough rope bit and cut his fresh skin, didn't care that new bones broke as he pulled his limbs through a gap too small for them. He just knew this was it, knew it was now or never, knew he was so close. He didn't bother with his bound ankles, once his wrists were free, instead just hobbled over to where the protector was struggling to his feet. Jumping his pushed them both to the floor, their bodies rolling and turning, neither man gaining the upper hand until the room ended and the wall stopped them, Dean prone beneath the Nutcracker's weight.

Its hands shot out, its grip tightening around Dean's throat, its weight bearing down. He tried at first to dislodge it, tried to break its grasp, but soon realized its futility. He'd always known Sam was deceptively strong, but feeling his strength now in the Nutcracker he realized just how wrong he was; Sam was powerfully strong, and that strength was now gaining in the man above him. He gave up trying to pry the hands loose, tried instead to punch and knocked the man loose, but his punches were weak, and his struggles lessoning as his own strength waned. In desperation his hands flung out, attempting to find any weapon, but his fingers found nothing but worn carpet and Sam's discarded clothing.

"Four minutes Dean! We've got one minute left, c'mon finish this." Bobby shouted out, his hand ready and waiting to plunge the new syringe inside of Sam.

That knowledge that Sam had just a minute left, spurred Dean into action. He was weakened, his sight dwindling, but he knew he had no choice. He couldn't wait for the time to run out, the risk to Sam would be too much, the risk that they couldn't get him back too great. He reached further, his shoulders aching from the strain, his sight darkening even further as the Nutcrackers hands tightened. He thought he had gone, thought he had failed, thought this was it, when suddenly they brushed against the ivory grip of the gun he had lost. He tensed further, fingers grasping and losing, grasping and losing, his body on the very edge of consciousness, when they final caught a firm hold. He didn't look, didn't aim, he just fired, a shrieking wail of agony resounding loudly around the room; a death cry, as he lost control and surrendered to the blackness.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . How very evil of me! A cliffie! As always thank you so much for taking time out to read this, your support means a great deal. Will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	16. Chapter 16

**When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbit's foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke. **

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . Huge thanks to everyone who read, and to those who reviewed, the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much. Peanut x**

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His hand batted weakly at the offensive smell that assaulted his nose. It took him a while, his mind a jumbled mess, but eventually he realized just what it was, a smell he'd had forced upon himself numerous times in his line of work, ammonia. He groaned as the smell burned his nostrils slightly, and turned his stomach, his hand batting even harder at the limb that held the smell there. "I'm 'wake. Leave 'lone Sammy." He slurred, as his mind tried to remember how it was he had passed out in the first place, his body shooting up from the floor, as remembrance came, another groan falling from his lips as pain assaulted him, his brother's name once more falling from his lips; this time with a severe sense of urgency and fear.

"Sammy!" He grasped at the hand that held the smelling salts, and willed his uncooperative eyes to open. "Sammy! Answer me god damn it!" He cried, his fear increasing when no reply was forthcoming. With effort he forced open his lids, groaning again as the light assaulted his eyes, and the world tilted and swirled, his stomach pitching and rolling, bile rising. He leaned to one side and expelled the vile liquid into a bin that seemed to appear out of nowhere, until there was nothing left but dry heaves. He flinched as a cool wash cloth was placed upon his nape, and a water bottle thrust into his hand, its top already removed, allowing him to swill his rancid mouth clear. He drank a few sips, testing to see if the liquid would stay put, or quickly reappear, drinking more when it stayed inside, all be it sitting heavily.

He turned to the man that still held the washcloth against his neck, once he had finished; his eyes fearful and moist. "Bobby?" He questioned, not needing to say anymore, knowing instinctively that the man would understand.

"He's alive, Son; Sam's alive."

He wanted to ask more, wanted to make his way over to his sibling, but there was something else he needed to know first. "And the Nutcracker?"

"Dead."

"You're sure?"

"Yep, you shot that nutjob straight through its blackened heart. We'll still need to salt and burn its ass, but its bond to Sam is broken. It's over Dean, it's finally over."

"Good, good, get me up will ya, I need to see Sammy." He held out his hand to the older man, only to sit and wonder as no help was offered. "Bobby? What's going on? Is there something wrong with Sam? You said he was alive right, you didn't lie did you?"

"No, Dean, no. He's alive, but it's not good. He needs a hospital; he needs better treatment than we can give him."

"Help me up. I need to see him." Dean ground out, already pushing himself up on unsteady arms.

Every bone in his body ached as he limped his way over to his sibling's side, the hard motel mattress that Sam lay upon seeming like the softest thing in the world to him as he sat himself down at his brother's side. Dismay replaced his fear as he looked upon Sam's battered frame. Fever ravaged his body, fever Dean could feel burning through his own clothing; new scars crisscrossed angrily over old; the weight he had lost evident; bruises from the Nutcrackers mistreatment showing starkly against skin that was far too pale, but it was another bruise that caught Dean's eye, and had confused eyes turning Bobby's way once more.

Bobby spoke before Dean could even get his question out, knowing immediately what it was that troubled the younger hunter so. "We ran out of time Dean. I knew we were close, but the minute you shot him, I tried the potion anyway, but it didn't work."

"How long was he under?"

"Close to seven minutes all told. It took three tries with the defib, and me pounding on his chest to get him back. The liquid in the first potion would have saved his brain for the first five, but he was still under for close to two. Dean you know the risks, this is why he needs the hospital, they can help him."

"Can they Bobby? You know as well as I do that if brain damage has occurred there's nothing they can do, it's irreversible. And what would we tell them about the rest of him, the scars, the carvings. No, we get him somewhere safe, somewhere away from here. We need to go, someone's bound to have heard that shot; hell it's a wonder that some hooker looking for a room by the hour hasn't stumbled across the dead body in reception yet. Help me get him to the Impala, there's a resort with remote cabins about thirty minutes away, we'll hole up there. I'll take Sam, whilst you get whatever you think we might need."

* * *

Bobby had done what Dean asked, gone along with his plan reluctantly. He'd found it easier to steal an ambulance, stripping it of all he thought they would need, rather than risking a robbery from a highly secure hospital. He'd used the drive back to call in a favor from an old friend, a retired medical pathologist, to garner more information on what they needed to do, and just what the worst case scenario could be, not liking what he heard; unwilling to believe it could happen, swearing to a God he didn't believe in that it wouldn't, it couldn't.

They'd been holed up in the remote cabin ever since, seventy two hours of constant caring of the youngest Winchester, machines beeping and whirling, junk food and bad cups of coffee, and little more that twelve hours sleep between him and Dean; waiting for Sam to show signs of waking; waiting and hoping that when he did, no damage would have been done. His friend had said it would take a while, that Sam's body would decide when it wanted to wake up, that it was just preserving itself, but still it didn't make the wait any easier, and with each minute that passed, the two older men couldn't help but think the worst.

Bobby noticed it first, the subtle change in Sam's breathing, so small that to anyone else it would have been unnoticeable, but they had been watching his every move, waiting for just this sign. He roused Dean, who had been dozing at his Brothers side, and pointed to where Sam was beginning to move. Dean instantly took up Sam's hand in one of his own, his free hand carding through his sibling's sweat soaked hair, words of encouragement spilling from his lips.

"C'mon Sammy, that's enough sleeping for now, it's time to wake up. C'mon Brother, I need to make sure you're okay."

It took massive amounts of effort, and a lot of pain filled groaning, but eventually Sam complied; confused and glassy brown orbs eventually showing between half open lids, roaming aimlessly around the room, before finding the one it was looking for.

"Hey Sammy." Dean spoke, his emotions threatening to overflow.

Sam tried to respond, tried to form the words he wanted to say, but speaking required effort, and he just felt too weak, settling instead for a gentle squeeze of Dean's hand. Dean felt it, but it wasn't enough, he needed to know if there was any damage, needed to know that all of Sam came back.

"Sammy, I know it's hard, I know you want to rest again, and you can soon, but I have to ask you some questions first, okay?" At feeling Sam squeeze his hand again, and attempt a nod, Dean carried on. "Do you know your name?"

"S. . . . . . . S. . . . . . .Sam. . . . . . . Winchester."

"Do you remember what year it is?"

"Two. . . . . . seven." Sam slurred in reply, his eyes beginning to close once more.

"That's good enough Sammy. Hey, hey stay awake now, just a little bit longer." Dean urged, adding once Sam's eyes had popped open once more. "Do you remember what happened?"

Sam's eyes left his Brother's at the question, staring instead of into space as though recalling. Eventually he nodded. "Nut. . . . . . . . . . cracker." He managed to answer.

"That's good Sammy, that's good, you can sleep now, we'll talk more later." He watched as Sam succumbed to slumber once more, before turning Bobby's way, his eyes shining. "That was good right; he knew all the answers, that was good right."

Bobby didn't want to encourage the older brother, but Dean's happiness was catching and he found he couldn't help himself. "That was good Dean, that was good." He watched as Dean turned back to his Brother, and prayed his response was right. It did look good though, and maybe for once the Winchester luck would hold, they'd just have to wait and see.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . As always thanks for taking time out to read this chapter, and this story. Will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	17. Chapter 17

**When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbit's foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke. **

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . Huge thanks to everyone who read, and to those who reviewed, the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much. Peanut x**

* * *

_Previously. . . . . . . . .Bobby didn't want to encourage the older brother, but Dean's happiness was catching and he found he couldn't help himself. "That was good Dean. That was good." He watched as Dean turned back to his Brother, and prayed his response was right. It did look good though, and maybe for once the Winchester luck would hold, they'd just have to wait and see._

* * *

The Winchester luck that Bobby had been hoping would hold, for once finally did. Each time Sam woke up, he was just that bit more lucid, and he managed to stay awake just that little bit more. They weren't without their problems though, Sam suffering from aphasia, his frustration evident as he battled to find the right words he wanted to say; words that had before come to him easily, and the more he battled the more frustrated he got, which increased his difficulty and caused him to stutter and become angry, Bobby's fiend though had insisted that this was normal, and that given time it would rectify itself. Infection had also set in; the smallest sliver of metal imbedded within one of the wounds the cause, neither older man even sure how it got there, and no matter what they did, they just couldn't seem to get control over it. Six days Sam battled, the strength he had gained dwindling once more. He'd only just recovered from that when he came down with what they thought was a severe cold, but which quickly turned into influenza, and had Bobby and Dean both praying it wouldn't turn into something else; their prayers being answered when Sam finally turned a corner.

They'd moved out of the cabin, after a month of staying there; Sam sleeping on the backseat of the Impala the whole ride back to Bobby's, not even stirring when Dean accidently drove through a pothole; an accident, he would swear to Bobby later, which had nothing to do with the blonde babe with the big. . . . . . . . . smile. Sam hadn't even protested the mother henning that both men gave him, as they helped him from the car, into the house, and up the stairs; although he drew the line at them undressing him. They'd been back now for two weeks and whilst Sam had steadily improved in surroundings he knew, he still tired way too easily for Dean's liking, and he still at times had trouble finding the right words he wanted to say, but there was also something else. Sam was hiding something; he ate even less than he had before all this, the weight refusing to return to his body; his still carried that unhealthy pallor on skin that had once shone golden; he still tired easy, his eyes testament to that, the once shining orbs now dull and ringed in dark circles. Dean had a feeling Sam was dreaming at nights too, his brother unable to banish the nightmares of the past, yet when he asked, Sam would always insist he was fine and left Dean wondering if Sam had started keeping secrets once again. After being woken up again, in the early hours, to Sam's cry of distress, and once again being told all was fine, Dean had decided he'd had enough.

Sleep had evaded him for the rest of the night, which was why he was wide awake and on his third cup of coffee when he finally heard Sam stir. He'd asked Bobby to make himself scarce for the morning, the older man willingly doing so, he too having seen Sam not improving, his own worries escalating to the point he had silently approached the older Winchester Brother and stated his own concerns.

Getting up he made Sam a cup of the milky crap he insisted was coffee, listening as he did so to the sound of Sam's shuffling feet as he padded along the hall and down the stairs, taking it back to the table with him whilst he waited for his brother to appear, his mind conceiving how he was going to approach this, and getting so caught up in his tactics he failed to realize that the slow shuffle failed to stop at the kitchen, but instead carried on down the downstairs hall and out through the front door.

It was Bobby's new mutt that brought him back to the here and now, the dog barking warningly until he realized who was invading his yard; settling down, once it spotted Sam, upon the relic of an old Ford. Figuring he would have to go to his brother, and not wanting to put it off any longer, Dean grabbed the two cups off the table and followed Sam outside. He paused on the porch and squinted in the early morning sun, allowing his eyes to adjust before joining Sam upon the rickety steps, paint flakes breaking off as his jeans brushed them and floating in the morning's gentle breeze. Once he'd passed Sam his coffee, and wished him "Morning" though, he found himself at a loss of what to say next; Sam eventually breaking the uncomfortable silence for him.

"Did you know?" Sam asked.

"Know what Sam?" Dean inquired back, not knowing where his brother was taking the conversation.

"I remember everything now Dean. Those dreams I've been having, they've been of the Nutcracker." Sam whispered.

"That's not surprising; I'd have been more surprised if you weren't dreaming of him."

"No, you don't get it Dean; they're of the Nutcracker and me, but in them I'm smaller. I tried to tell myself I was just imagining things, but I wasn't was I?" He didn't wait for a reply, instead adding. "I knew I wasn't and the more I thought about it, the more I remembered. So I ask again, and I'm praying for the right answer. Did you know?"

"Did I know about the past? Did I know you'd met that damn puppet before? Did I know he carved those scars into you, created those burns upon you? Yes, I knew." He waited for a backlash from his brother, but all he got in return was an "oh" a resigned sigh, and then silence.

Eventually Sam broke it once again. "I think I hid it all, blocked everything that had happened, but I think I always knew you were all keeping something from me, I remember all of a sudden it was as if the reigns had been tightened; I couldn't go anywhere alone, I was never allowed to stay late at school, and god help if a stranger asked me for directions, you and Dad were on them like a shot; but I could never figure out why, and if I tried too hard to remember I'd get this really strong feeling of terror, so I guess I stopped trying."

"I'm sorry Sam, I wanted to tell you, but they were older, and I thought wiser, so I went along with their plan."

"It's okay. I was still young, I imagine it would have been harder if I'd have known; but Dean, why did you let me go to the locker if you knew it was there?"

"I didn't know Sam, I swear, I didn't know. I didn't even know about the locker remember. I would never have let you get anywhere near that thing if I'd have known. They told me it was destroyed, they told me it was over. Sammy, I didn't know, you have to believe me."

"I do Dean, I do."

Taking a hunch Dean asked. "So, is that what's been bothering you? You thought I knew and didn't tell you?" At seeing Sam's small nod, he reached over and placed an arm around his neck. "You should have just asked me dude, I would have told you and you could have concentrated on getting better." He leaned into Sam's side, enjoying their closeness for once. "Sam, I promise you it's over now, that damn puppet is dead, salt and burned, and buried. It's over."

"Is it? It's not for me." At seeing his brother's shocked expression he quickly added. "Not yet, but it will be, give me some time Dean, that's all I ask, give me some time to work through this."

"All the time in the world little brother, you can have all the time in the world."

The End.

* * *

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . Well that's it folks! Two years and four months in the making, but I finally finished it. Thank you so very much to everyone who has taken time out, at any point, to read this your support as always is the push I need to keep going. So what's next, hmmmmm, I guess you'll just have to wait and see. Will catch you all soon, and thanks again. Peanut x**


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